Otherworld
by Turrasta
Summary: AU SG1/Atlantis/BSG-2003/Halo/B5 X-Over . In the year 2187, Earth has its first encounter with the Goa'uld, which sparks the beginning of a galaxy spanning war. Some violence, swearing, etc. Over 40 thousand hits!
1. Timeline: Setting The Story

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

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**2046- **The first Lunar colonies are established on Earths only natural satellite.

**2048- **The first orbital living habitats able to cater for more than ten thousand people are established at several of Earths Lagrange points.

**2052- **After a brief but devastating war between the United States of America and the Peoples Republic of China, the United Nations intervenes, forcing both sides to surrender.

**2053- **Under the leadership of the United Nations, all nations of Earth form into a single united government, referred to as the United Earth Government.

**2068- **The first colonisation of Mars occurs. 50,000 people are moved into a massive dome-city on the red planets surface, most of them scientists and their families. The first archaeological expeditions are sent out to determine if any life ever existed on Mars.

**2073- **Five years after the first archaeological digs are started, a small group of scientists led by Professor Rudolph Beltzman and his wife, Doctor Andrea Beltzman discover the first signs of alien civilization in the form of the ruins of a buried city. Hundreds of scientists from Mars City and Mars One, the two largest colonies on Mars, and from Earth begin arriving to aid in uncovering the archaeological find of the century.

**2074- **The U.N and the U.E.G begin taking a marked interest in the alien city at the Beltzman Dig with discovery of what appears to be a crashed spacecraft half embedded in the side of a recently discovered ruin.

**2076- **The scientific teams surveying the Beltzman Dig uncover a vast repository of information and alien technological artefacts buried nearly a kilometre beneath the alien city.

**2082- **After six years of studying the alien language, the first reliable translation software is created. It is discovered that the aliens were not native to Mars, and in fact came from somewhere far beyond the Solar System. Schematics for starship, weapons and Faster-Than-Light engine assemblies are discovered and immediately tens of billions of standard credits are poured into researching them.

**2083- **Information about a vast, malevolent alien empire that possibly led to the destruction of the alien civilization based on Mars is discovered and partially disclosed to the public. Suddenly worried about running into hostile extra solar beings, the already considerable research budget for the development of warships and weapons is increased tenfold. Extensive mining operations begin in the asteroid belt and Jupiter's moons in preparation for Earths first true space fleet. Old, slow and poorly armed and armoured ships begin to be recycled. Saturn's moons are surveyed for ore deposits.

**2091- **First generation warships begin rolling off the production lines. Much faster than the older Earth ships, they begin to seed Jupiter's moons with small dome-city colonies and start extensive searches throughout the solar system for more alien repositories.

**2118- **A second alien repository is discovered on Pluto's surface. First generation energy shield technology is fitted to old First Gen ships and Second Gen ships begin production, outfitted with better armour and weapons, as well as more efficient sublight engines and First Gen FTL drives.

**2120- **Humans take their first tentative steps out of their home system. Four colony ships, each carrying 15,000 colonists and 1500 crewmen, escorted by two heavy cruisers, ten destroyers and twelve frigates colonize Tau Ceti, the nearest neighbouring system with Earth like worlds. First Contact is made with the Tau Republic, the peaceful inhabitants of Tau Ceti Prime and Tau Ceti Beta. Tau technology is at a level humans would have been at by now if not for the discovery the Beltzman's made forty seven years ago.

**2122- **The first significant technology exchanges are made with the relatively humanlike Tau. The Tau receive outdated First Gen ships to serve as their own defence fleet, and humans receive the secret of artificial gravity, something which had been discovered in the alien repositories yet had not been researched to the extent the Tau had managed on their own, a remarkable feat considering the Tau had been developing at roughly the same rate as the humans before the discovery of the alien repositories.

**2130- **Combined Human-Tau population reaches the 180 billion mark, as more and more colonies and outposts are established throughout the nearby star systems. Tau begins construction of their first "home-made" defensive fleet and orbital defence networks. Humans begin construction of Third Gen ships, equipped with Fifth Gen rail guns and anti-ship nuclear missiles, Second Gen shields and FTL drives, Third Gen composite armours and First Gen laser weapons.

**2133-** The first successful attempts at terraforming otherwise uninhabitable worlds is made, increasing the number of potential colony worlds by a considerable margin.

**2136- **Combined Human-Tau fleet enters Alkaid star system. First Contact is made with the canine like Alkaid. The Alkaid, more technologically advanced than both the humans and their Tau allies, and highly xenophobic, open fire on Allied fleet. The First Interstellar War erupts.

**2140- **Allied fleets are pushed back to the Mercon star system. Forced to abandon two colonies and nearly five billion people of both races, the 23rd,5th, and 9th Earth battle groups and the 15th and 3rd Tau battle groups draw a sand in the line. With the loss of nearly two-thirds of the entire Allied fleet, andthe total destruction of all Alkaid ships, the first naval victory is scored against the Alkaid.

**2144- **Human Fourth Gen ships, equipped with First Gen plasma weapons, begin production, while military technology research continues to receive vast budgets to fuel faster technological evolution. Fourth Gen ships are roughly equivalent to Alkaid vessels, and the tides of the war finally begin to see a serious change.

**2147- **After eleven years of war, the Alkaid suddenly and inexplicably disappear. Even their believed home system is abandoned, leaving behind cities and a few outdated ships. Humans and Tau alike are thoroughly confused, as even with the latest technological advancements the war was still going more in the favour of the Alkaid than the Allies.

**2181- **After thirty-four years of peace, the Alkaid are rediscovered, and the discovery frightens the Allies. A fleet of Fifth Gen ships find hundreds of the once formidable Alkaid warships lingering in the gravity well of a dead planet. On the surface, dozens of vast cities lie lifeless and irradiated, with the hulks of dead Alkaid ships crash-landed all over the planet and evidence of orbital bombardment. Several dozen wrecks of unknown design are found intermingled with the wreckage of Alkaid ships and it is assumed that the only way the Alkaid were able to achieve even these minor victories was by ramming the unknown vessels. It is believed that the battle that occurred here happened twenty to twenty five years ago.

**2182- **All further exploration is forbidden while Allied scientists study the wreckage orbiting the dead Alkaid homeworld. All established colonies are given far more extensive Orbital Defence Networks and assigned extra destroyer and cruiser squadrons. Once again, vast amounts of money are poured into military research endeavours. The largest military build-up since the opening days of the Alkaid-Allied war begins, with the latest technologies being used to begin the creation of Sixth Generation Human ships and Fifth Generation Tau ships. All of humanity rallies behind the United Nations and pledges their full support for the U.N to become the ruling government body.

**2183- **The United Nations Space Command is formed, and all human ships currently in service and undergoing construction receive new registration numbers, officers receive new uniforms to match the changes in government, and military control shifts entirely to the UNSC.

**2187 (Present)- **Contact is lost with Tau Hyperspace Monitoring Outpost #31 at the very edge of the Republics sphere of influence towards the "centre" of the galaxy. A recon patrol, consisting of a Tau destroyer and two human frigates is sent to investigate. Recon patrol fails to report in at the designated time. The 22nd UNSC battle group, command by Rear Admiral Aleksandir Vladislov, and the 8th TRN battle group, commanded by Elder K'Hahn forms up above the nearest Tau colony to the Outpost of Sorna Prime, and prepares to jump to the outpost to investigate in force…

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A/N: This kind of just sets the story so you're not confused when you jump into the story in the next chapter. If anyone wants anything more detailed, or has anything that they think I can improve, then please R&R and let me know. No flames, though, it must be constructive criticism.


	2. Prologue: Hard Contact

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

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**March 3rd, 2187**

**UNSC Battleship _Endeavour_, High Orbit of Sorna Prime**

Rear Admiral Aleksandir Vladislov grimaced as he read the brief and succinct report of the incident involving the possible loss of a Tau outpost and a combined reconnaissance patrol. A veteran of the Alkaid War, Vladislov was somewhat grizzled and cynical at the best of times, and to him, this report just screamed "hard contact", the term given to any First Contact situation that involved hostilities.

At eighty-three years old, the admiral didn't look a day over thirty at first glance, thanks to the advanced medical technology available to the Allies. However his face was heavily scarred and he wore a perpetual scowl that had made many a junior officer quiver in their uniform.

Heaving a sigh, Vladislov turned to the fleet reports and began running through the formations and readiness of the vessels under his command.

He started with the flagship, the _Endeavour_. At the centre of the formation, it was reported to be fully stocked on consumables and expendable munitions, including rail gun ammunition, nuclear ordinance and anti-fighter missiles and flak cannon ammo.

The two fleet carriers, _Achilles_ and _Apollo_, reported full consumable stocks and 90 percent expendable munitions stocks, with all fighters, bombers and gunboats safely aboard with the exception of the Combat Space Patrol.

Next were the two battlecruisers, _Nexus_ and _Conquest_, also reporting full combat readiness.

He continued down the reasonably long list, checking all four heavy cruisers, the eight light cruisers, ten destroyers, sixteen frigates and twenty-eight corvettes, one after the other.

Vladislov sighed again. The fleet could autonomously keep itself alert and ready, and could check in with half hourly updates on their status with the Endeavours resident artificial intelligence construct, Akira, meaning the admiral did not need to do it himself.

However, he was thoroughly bored with waiting for the Tau battle group to arrive. True, the battle group was making best speed towards the Sorna System, and they had had to stop along the way to pick up the UNSC tenders from the Adrian shipyards and to rearm themselves after a training exercise, but Vladislov was anxious to get the mission underway.

Vladislov's desk holo panel lit up suddenly, and Akira's avatar of an ancient Samurai warrior appeared.

"Excuse me, Admiral, but you requested to be notified when the Tau battle group arrived in system," Akira said, his voice synthesisers making a perfect impression of an authentic Japanese accent

"Thank you, Akira. Can you please set up a com-link between myself and the Elder commanding the battle group?"

"Of course, sir, one moment please," Akira answered, just before his avatar disappeared, to be replace moments later by the holographic representation of Elder K'Hahn, the Commanding Elder of the 8th TRN battle group.

"Greetings, Admiral Vladislov, it is an honour to meet you," the Elder spoke, the lilting musical tones of his voice carrying through the com-link with crystal clarity. The Elders large eyes shone with a similar anxiety to what Vladislov himself was feeling.

"The honour is mine, Elder K'Hahn, I have heard a great many good things about you and your battle group," Vladislov returned, and he was not lying. The 8th Tau Republic Navy battle group was also a veteran group of the Alkaid War, and had held off an Alkaid fleet nearly three times its size for five days in the Sierra system, a densely populated system at the edge of Allied space on the Alkaid Rim, until reinforcements could arrive.

"I was informed that you would take official command of both our battle groups for the duration of this mission. I must admit, I am most anxious to get underway. My group is ready to take up any formation you wish to utilise at this time, Admiral. We await your command," the Elder responded, clearly through with the pleasantries, which suited Vladislov just fine.

"Very well. Take up Mutual Defence Formation Theta with my battle group and prepare for hyperspace transition in thirty-five standard minutes,' Vladislov stated.

Mutual Defence Formation Theta integrated the two battle groups into one reasonably large battle fleet, 142 ships total (124 of those being escorts) with the flagships and critical capital ships in the very centre of the spherical formation and the light capital ships and escorts making up concentric rings of defence around the heavy capital ships. The formation was fairly loose, with 100-150 kilometre spacing between each ship to allow for maximum point defence fire from all ships to protect one another evenly, while still being able to bring heavy offensive firepower to bare in any direction.

"As you command, Admiral. I have relayed your orders to the rest of the battle group and we shall form up with you momentarily. Elder K'Hahn, out."

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**March 3rd, 2187**

**Goa'uld fleet, orbiting remains of Tau Hyperspace Outpost 31**

The expedition had initially been quite small, two of Ra's _Ha'tak_ motherships exploring a new sector of space in the hopes of discovering more habitable worlds to absorb into his steadily growing territories.

Instead, an alien settlement of some kind had been discovered and subsequently destroyed when the pathetic creatures had refused to bow to their god. After that, three more _Ha'tak_ had arrived to secure the system for their god Ra. Less than an hour later, three small vessels had arrived on the scene, and had also been destroyed after refusing to bow to their god, at the cost of one _Ha'tak_ destroyed and one lightly damaged.

But, most disturbing of all was the fact that humans had occupied and apparently commanded the two smaller ships, with the larger one being commanded by the same aliens that had been discovered on the small settlement. The radically different designs indicated that both the aliens and the alien humans had separate fleets that worked together at least some of the time and the alien humans were allied in some way to the aliens.

That had been nearly nine hours ago now, and the system had been heavily reinforced by more motherships of differing design, most commonly standard _Ha'tak_, but also a number of Baal's upgraded _Ha'tak_ and a large number of _Al'kesh_ bombers. The Goa'uld Union had decided that this was worth investigating, and the fact that there might be some kind of alliance between the humans of this area of the galaxy and an alien race had warranted the full attention of the gods. So much so, in fact, that Ra himself was presently in the system in his flagship, a heavily modified _Ha'tak_ nearly twice the size of the average _Ha'tak_ and with all of Baal's upgrades (supplied by Anubis) applied.

The sudden appearance of dozens of hyperspace transitions caught the attention of Ra's First Prime, and he immediately reported it to his god.

"Open communications with those ships, I wish to give them the opportunity to bow to their god," Ra said, voice unnaturally deep thanks to the symbiote within the human host.

"Channel opened, my Lord, you may speak when you are ready", the First Prime stated evenly, but with just a hint of reverence in his voice.

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**Aboard the UNSC _Endeavour_**

"Sir, multiple vessels of an unknown configuration are present with in the system, currently holding position barely one hundred thousand kilometres from the Outpost!," Ensign Patrick Williams, currently on duty at the sensor suite reported perhaps a little too loudly.

The Admiral, barely six feet away from the overexcited young ensign, winced and had to remind himself that the man had good reason to be anxious about this First Contact situation, given how poorly the last First Contact had gone.

"I'm also registering the wreckage of one of the unknowns, the Outpost and the recon patrol that was sent from Sierra," the ensign spoke again, calmer this time.

"Have all ships raise shields and prepare for possible hard contact, rail guns and missile launchers only to start with, but make sure the laser cannons and plasma weapons are ready as well. Alert the _Achilles_ and the _Apollo_ to launch their CSPs and stand by to launch further squadrons," Vladislov ordered, thoroughly displeased that it looked like he was about to be proven right about hostile aliens.

"Sir," Lieutenant Sandra Okinawa from communications called out, "we're receiving a broadband subspace transmission from one of the alien ships, audio-visual"

Vladislov frowned and nodded, indicating that the Lt. should put up the communiqué on the main holo screen. Immediately a disturbingly human face, tanned and absurdly young looking to be commanding a fleet, appeared.

"I am Ra, your God," the young man (teenager, really) stated, as though it was the most well known fact in the universe, "Bow down to me and your lives will be spared."

With the conclusion of that statement, "Ra's" eyes momentarily flashed a bright golden colour.

Vladislov's perpetual scowl deepened, and he glanced quickly at the sensor displays on his personal view screen.

"And the people on the Outpost, on the ships we sent here? What happened to them?," Vladislov asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"They refused to bow down to my divine will," Ra answered, calmly, like he hadn't a care in the world.

"So you destroyed them," The Admiral stated flatly. A glance at the comm. board indicated that every ship in the fleet was listening in on this conversation, including the Tau vessels.

Ra did not answer, so Vladislov took that as a yes, and asked another question.

"If we refuse to follow your 'divine will' you will do the same to us?"

"Of course. Now bow down to me," came the sharp reply. Vladislov smirked slightly as he noted the hint of frustration in the 'gods' voice.

"Well, tempting an offer as that is, I'm going to have to decline. Now, there is the matter of the destruction of those ships and the outpost…," the Admiral was cut off suddenly as the transmission was ended from the other side.

"Sir, major energy spikes from the alien ships, I think they're preparing to fire!," Ensign Williams spoke hurriedly, adrenalin spiking in his system.

_Damn_, Vladislov thought, _aggressive lot, aren't they?_

"Order all ships to prepare to return fire and engage the enemy, let them hit us first, I want to know what weapons they use and how effective they are," he said aloud.

"Aye, sir. All units, all units, prepare to receive fire and engage the enemy," Lt. Okinawa sent out to the Tau-Human fleet.

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A/N: okay, so that's the first actual chapter, R&R and tell me what you think. This is obviously an alternate history for the Stargate universe, but more details on that will be revealed later on. I'll try and update as often as possible, but I can't make too many promises in that department I'm afraid, as I'm flat out with work and studies at the moment. No flames, constructive criticism only, or praise, either of those two would be good. By the way, anyone who figures out which popular franchise the term UNSC comes from, gets kudos or whatever. Shouldn't be to hard.


	3. Chapter 1: The Battle Of Outpost 31

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

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**To Striker1346: **Thanks for the review. Don't worry, at some point in the not-too-distant future the Asgard are going to be making an appearance. As for an Alteran Repository, I'm thinking about adding in Atlantis sometime after the Asgard first approach the UNSC and the TRN.

**To Jumper Prime:** You're absolutely right, the UNSC does come from the Halo series. It's kind of my way of paying homage to one of my favourite video games. Also, depending on how many reviews I get and how big the story gets, I might add in the Covenant at some point. Don't worry about the battle being a steamroller, as I'm sure you'll find that both sides are fairly evenly matched (although the Goa'uld are somewhat outnumbered in this instance).

**To Darth Kiryan: **The Stargate was discovered in 1927 in this timeline as well, however the importance of the discovery was never realised, so the 'gate ended up being a part of a museum collection of Ancient Egyptian artefacts. It isn't until a little later on in the story, when the UNSC and TRN witness the Jaffa using a Stargate that it starts making a significant impact on humans and Tau alike.

Again, everybody, thanks for the reviews, keep them coming. Here is the next instalment of Otherworld, The Battle Of Outpost 31. Enjoy.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle of Outpost 31**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_

"Elder, the enemy ships are firing!", Cadet J'Intar shouted, even as the enemy ships ripple fired on the front battlelines. The fire was sporadically aimed, with no two ships firing on the same target, and because of that, the Allied fleet got off relatively lightly.

Two human corvettes, a human frigate and a Tau destroyer either flashed out of existence in a brilliant white light or listed suddenly - and sharply - out of formation, hulls belching flames, atmosphere and equipment and, horrifyingly, people, who struggled momentarily to survive in an airless environment with a temperature of Absolute Zero, before stilling and beginning an endless journey through the void.

Elder K'Hahn bowed his head low, a sign of respect for the fallen, then raised his large green eyes to look at his weapons officer, Cadet K'inbe. With an almost imperceptible nod, the order was given to return fire.

The great battleship, 1.8 kilometres long from bow to stern, shuddered under the weight of fire being forced from its many gun barrels and missile tubes, even as its hangar bays opened and its own squadron of Sabre-class Space Superiority Fighters exited and took up an escort position around the behemoth.

"Enemy ships launching what appear to be some kind of fighter craft, standby all squadrons to engage." Flight Leader P'Tar, Cutter Lead, nodded calmly to himself after receiving his orders from Fleet Tactical Command. He switched over to his squadron frequency and ordered a sit rep.

"Stone Cutters, report in", P'Tar smiled darkly in anticipation as he went through his own last minute systems check.

"Cutter Two, good to go."

"Cutter Three, ready for anything."

The squadron continued reporting in, all the way down to Cutter Twelve, even as the battleships guns spoke again. Off in the distance, the ship that had been on the receiving end of both volleys crumpled under the weight of rail gun rounds and laser pulses, the explosion surprisingly large and bright even at a distance of close to 80 thousand kilometres.

"Alright, break up into your wing pairs and move onto your assigned sections, defend the _Inquisitor_ with your very lives if you must," Cutter Lead ordered, and instantly his demands were met as the squadron broke up into six pairs and moved to cover critical locations around the massive ship they were charged with defending.

Just over 500 km away, the UNSC light cruiser _Carpathian _took a series of glancing blows to the shields, the protective energy barrier glowing bright silver under the onslaught. It looked like the shields were going to hold out, until three gunboat sized craft made a seemingly suicidal run at the 900 metre long cruiser, spitting out some kind of glowing energy projectile.

Even as two of the attacking gunboats were swatted out of the sky by the Laser Net point defence cannons, and the attacking enemy cruiser analogues shields failed under a hail of plasma bursts and rail gun fire, the cruisers starboard hull was penetrated in explosive gouts of light.

The ship immediately lost partial control, and just barely avoided colliding with the heavy cruiser she was escorting, only to slam into the enemy ship at close to 15 thousand kilometres per second. The twin explosions that followed were bright enough to make P'Tar's fighter canopy polarize, and destabilize the shields of the heavy cruiser and a pair of nearby destroyers.

"Alright squad, stay sharp and keep an eye out for those enemy gunboats, it looks like they pack a mean punch," P'Tar ordered over the squad link. A series of affirmatives answered him back.

P'Tar's attention was drawn to his sensor suite when a light jingle alerted him to incoming enemy craft.

"Heads up, guys we've got a lot of enemy fighters closing in, ETA damn quick!," a human pilot from the _Endeavour_'s defence squadron reported over the COM link, even as P'Tar and his squadron began to move into an aggressive formation, preparing to deal with the fighter threat before they got within any reasonable kind of range to the two battleships.

As they closed in on each other, the two Allied squadrons of twenty-four fighters against close to sixty enemy ships, P'Tar got his first real look at the enemy. The first thing that came to mind was the image of the B2 Stealth Bomber of the late 20th and early 21st centuries on Earth, only with slightly downward curving wings, which had seen on a historical documentary once.

The enemy fighters had no obvious formation, it was basically a jumble of ships gathered into one large group, and it was immediately apparent to P'Tar that these people had no clue how to operate a fighter in zero atmosphere. They flew in wide, lazy arcs whenever they changed position, manoeuvring in much the same way as the old bombers they so much resembled.

A moment later and the two forces collided, explosions raking across the front lines of the enemy fighters, and then it was all instinct for P'Tar. He had no way of knowing when he might be fired upon so he simply jinked and juked at random, making it look like he was flying in an intricate pattern.

The enemy fighters were pathetic, and it was proven quickly as over a dozen of them were destroyed in the first seconds of the melee, with no losses to the Allies. P'Tars Sabre swung around in an impossibly tight turn, the inertial compensators straining to their limit as he swung in behind his first target. A second or two of jockeying for just the right position to fire from and P'Tar made his first kill, instantly swinging about and choosing another target.

Golden energy fire lashed past his cockpit, just inches away, making his shields flare briefly. Finishing off his chosen target quickly, P'Tar made another tight turn, catching his pursuer completely flatfooted and sending a burst of laser fire into his cockpit. He swung about again, firing on another target, and another and another, in a never ending pattern that seemed so monotonous and simple it was almost funny. Almost.

Before he knew it, the dogfight was over, and he had nine kills to his name. He breathed deeply as the adrenalin drained away from his system, leaving him in a brief after action slump. He had just enough time to note that aside from a few craft with light damage, not a single Allied casualty had been taken. Just as that piece of information settled in, his sensors blared an obnoxiously loud alarm.

Acting on pure instinct, P'Tar swung his fighter "down", just in time to see a series of energy bolts flash by and impact on Cutter Six's fighter. The hardy little fighter and rookie pilot were destroyed almost instantly as the considerably more powerful energy weapons of an enemy gunboat stripped away the shields and boiled the armour.

_To coin a human phrase_, P'Tar thought to himself, _god-fucking-damnit!_

Even as he swung back around to re-engage, a quartet of AMRAAM-116's roared past his fighter, all four of them imparting their explosive force against one of the eight attacking craft, badly damaging the vehicle and leaving it barely operational. P'Tar finished it off with a three-second burst of laser fire even as he raced past the exploding vessel to engage its fellows.

Two more fighters formed up on P'Tar in an attack formation, one of them human, and, with no communication between them at all, each fired a one-second laser burst and followed up with a missile.

_Another gunboat down, six more to-_

P'Tar cursed wildly as his craft was suddenly thrown into an uncontrolled spin as a volley of capital ship rail gun rounds raced past, impacting against the shields of one of the larger enemy capital ships.

He regained control just in time to avoiding ramming into the side of a Tau battle cruiser that had fallen out of formation. His comrades were not so lucky, with one glancing off of one of the weapons emplacements on the ship, the pilot ejecting just before the fighter exploded. The human pilot was far worse off, his ship rammed full pelt into the battlecruisers hull and exploded.

_The hull? The shields should have stopped both those impacts…_

P'Tar's query was answered as he came over the dorsal side of the capital ship. His naturally large eyes widened even further, and his mouth dropped wide open as he registered the flaming hulks of two of the enemy's light capital ships embedded in the Tau ships hull, small secondary explosions erupting all over all three ships. Despite the no doubt fatal damage, the battlecruiser continued firing with its few remaining guns.

In all his years, P'Tar had never seen a capital ship, human or Tau, so horrifically damaged as the _Ascendant_ was. Granted, it had cost the enemy at least two of their own ships to accomplish this feat, but still, it was a humbling sight, especially considering the 3200 crewmembers aboard who would surely perish if the battlecruiser was not adequately defended by its escorts.

To P'Tar, it appeared as if the battle was going poorly for both sides, with hundreds of fighter losses and dozens of larger ships either destroyed outright or listing lazily out of formation already, belching atmosphere and flame. He had a feeling that the rest of the war, and surely there would be war after this, would play out similarly.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle of Outpost 31**

**Ra's Flagship**

Ra watched in disbelief as Al'kesh after Al'kesh and Ha'tak after Ha'tak were destroyed. The Udajeet death gliders had been swept aside by the heretics fighters and point defences in record time, and Ra was forced to contemplate the possible merits of retreating to fight another day.

True the heretical beasts of the other fleet were suffering heavy losses as well, but it was not nearly enough to turn this battle in the gods favour.

Ra and his First Prime both collapsed in heaps, on top of one another, no less, as the flagship was struck by a nuclear missile. As Ra struggled to his feat and his First Prime begged for forgiveness, he was thrown to the floor again as a rail gun volley spent itself on the ships shields.

_Yes, perhaps retreat is a viable option in this situation…_

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle Of Outpost 31**

**UNSC **_**Endeavour**_

The mighty battleship shuddered as another volley of energy weapons fire impacted against the shields, the impact causing Rear Admiral Vladislov and the rest of the flag bridges crew to jerk harshly against their seats restraints.

"Sir, we just lost fire control for the forward missile launchers, and the shield generators are starting to starting to show signs of stress! We can't keep this up for much longer," Lieutenant William Anders, Weapons Officer, cried out from his station.

"Have the forward laser cannon batteries adjust fire to compensate, and reroute the excess power to the shields. Tac Com, revert the rear escort squadrons to the frontline, or we're going to start taking losses faster than we can replace them. Akira, give me an estimate on remaining enemy fleet strength," Vladislov fired out a rapid series of orders, then turned his attention back to the holo display showing an over all view of the battle.

"Admiral," Akira said, avatar appearing at his designated holo tank in the centre of the bridge, "I estimate that we have destroyed perhaps a little over a third of the enemies fleet strength. However, our corvette, frigate and destroyer screens are taking heavy losses ,and the Tau vessels are faring little better."

Akira cocked his holographic head to the side for a moment, then resumed speaking.

"I have just received word that all enemy fighter squadrons have been destroyed, and an estimated sixty percent of the enemy gunboats will no longer be a threat," another pause, then, " The Tau battlecruiser _Ascendant _was just destroyed with all hands."

Vladislov closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, his scowl deepening even further. In less than thirty minutes of combat, his forces had lost a third of their escort screen, three light capital ships and a battlecruiser, and almost every other ship in the fleet had taken moderate to heavy damage.

"Reform the escort screen into a capital phalanx, forget sacrificing light ships to keep our capitals in the fight. All units still operational are to form up into Assault Formation Alpha, full overlapping fields of fire. As soon as that is done, all units are to proceed forward into the enemy fleet. If we can break up their formation we should be able to concentrate our fire on a few ships at a time, rather than the whole fleet. Alert the carriers to begin rearming their bombers with tactical nuclear ordinance in preparation for anti shipping strikes, and have all gunboat squadrons form up in defensive formations around the _Pious Inquisitor_ and the _Endeavour_," Vladislov ordered, a strange feeling clenching in his gut that he soon recognised as a twinge of fear.

If they weren't able to break apart the enemy formations, then it was his own fleet that would be picked off one by one. He hoped his gamble paid off, or this system would be lost to the Allies and would make the perfect staging area for an invasion into Tau space.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle of Outpost 31**

**Ra's Flagship**

Ra growled in frustration as the human ships again changed formation, seemingly at random, and the tide seemed to turn once again. His fleet had managed to push back the humans and their disgusting alien allies and destroyed a large number of their small ships, and even several of the much more formidable large ones.

"Bring back our Al'kesh immediately to defend the Ha'tak,' the First Prime ordered, frustration evident in his voice. With the Udajeet's monumental failure to eliminate the enemy single ships, the Ha'taks were now left vulnerable to enemy strike craft and bombing runs.

As soon as the order was relayed, the remaining forty or so Al'kesh turned away from the enemy fleet and began heading back towards the Ha'taks and Ra's flagship. It took only a moment for the First Prime to realise his mistake. Before the Al'kesh had been ordered back, they had been manoeuvring madly to avoid the human single ships fire, and the point defence fire of the larger vessels. Now, though, they were moving in a straight line and the humans had only to point and shoot, no longer needing to anticipate the actions of the Al'kesh pilots.

Even as he watched, a trio of Al'kesh were torn from the skies in a volley of light rail gun fire from one of the Ha'tak sized ships, and a dozen more were destroyed by missile or laser fire from the human and alien fighter craft.

Of the forty three Al'kesh that had turned to return to the Ha'taks defence, twenty nine made it to the relative safety of the fleet.

"First Prime," a Jaffa manning one of the various stations around the room called out, "look!"

And look he did. The human and alien ships that had moments ago seemed to be in disarray, had now formed up into what looked like attack squadrons and begun advancing towards the Goa'uld fleet.

He watched in disbelief as one of the smaller alien ships accelerated to a very high sub-light speed, apparently intent on ramming one of the frontline upgraded Ha'tak. The Ha'tak noticed the threat as well, and golden energy bolts erupted from the ships main guns, stripping the smaller vessels shields in just a few hits. Molten globs of hull armour were ripped away from the small ship, but it continued coming at full speed, rail guns and missile launchers firing.

The full might of the alien ships guns finally brought down the Ha'taks already weakened shields, just moments before the two ships became one. The vessels seemed to fuse together for one incredibly long moment, before they both disappeared in an impossibly bright flash that forced the First Prime, and everyone else on the flagships bridge, including Ra, to shield their eyes with their hands.

"First Prime," Ra beckoned his servants attention.

"Yes, my Lord," the Prime answered immediately, bowing before his god.

"Have all remaining standard Ha'tak and Al'kesh proceed to the front. All upgraded ships are to accompany this ship into hyperspace," Ra ordered, his eyes glowing again. His pride was thoroughly damaged by this fight, but he knew that if he escaped now then he could come back later with a much larger force than the ships he had had here.

"Of course, my Lord," the Prime answered, bowing again. In the back of his mind, he wondered why a god as powerful as Ra would ever need to retreat from any fight, it had certainly never happened before in the many decades he had served as First Prime to his god, but he dared not question his orders for fear of his gods divine wrath.

He quickly relayed the orders to the rest of the fleet, then watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as the remaining thirty two standard Ha'tak raced forward to replace the retreating eighteen remaining upgraded Ha'tak, the Al'kesh at the fore front of the charge.

Immediately, the enemy fleet ceased firing on the retreating upgrades, and began firing on the charging standards. Seven Al'kesh and three Ha'tak were destroyed before they reached the enemy battleline.

After that, the fire from the enemy ships slackened, for fear of firing into their own formations and accidentally hitting their comrades. Precision rail gun, laser and plasma fire lashed out at the attacking Goa'uld ships, but the weight of fire was much less than the Alpha Strikes and broadsides that the humans and aliens had been firing when the two sides had been charging one another, meaning that the Goa'uld ships stayed in the fight for longer and thus were able to cause more damage.

The Prime noticed his god breathe what appeared to be a sigh of relief, just before the remaining nineteen ships, including Ra's flagship, made the jump to hyperspace

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle of Outpost 31**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_

Elder K'Hahn grimaced as a decent sized portion of the remaining enemy fleet charged the Allied battleline. He knew that once those ships got in amongst the Tau-Human fleet, it would be almost entirely up to the fighters, bombers and gunboats to deal with them, as when that happened, the heavier ships would be unable to bring their big guns to bare and only the precision fire batteries would be a viable defence.

Delivering a battleship broadside and accidentally hitting an Allied ship was not something that K'Hahn wanted to happen.

Even as he thought that, the frontline enemy ships breached the battlelines perimeter and split up into pairs or small groups, using their superior mobility and numbers to concentrate on a single ship at a time, quickly overwhelming several frigates and destroyers, and heavily damaging one of the five remaining heavy cruisers in a matter of moments.

The COM link crackled suddenly, drawing the Tau Elders attention away from the tactical holo screen.

"All units, this is Rear Admiral Vladislov. All frigate and destroyer units, break off into Wolf Packs and hunt down the enemy light capitals, all bomber wings will assist. All capitals, maintain loose formation and begin precision suppressive fire, keep them from ramming you. All SSF, Interceptor and gunboat squadrons, hunt down the enemy gunboat analogues, and keep clear of capital and point defence firing solutions," the grizzled, slightly accented voice of the human leading the battle group said.

"We've won this fight and held onto the system, people, now all we need to do is deal with the remnant of the unknown fleet. We've lost a great many friends and colleagues today, and I think I can safely say that the only outcome of this battle is war and-," the COM link cut off suddenly as an incredibly loud alarm blared, the proximity alert, and seconds later another, much more ominous sound.

The battleship shuddered violently, and Elder K'Hahns head snapped forward, his small, flat nose cracking loudly against the holo panel, and the screeching, tearing sound of metal on metal reverberated throughout the vessel.

K'Hahn fought valiantly to maintain consciousness as chaos erupted all over the bridge.

"Shields down!"

"Fire control for the main rail guns and aft missile launchers offline!"

"Engines offline! We're drifting off course, I have no control!"

The shouting of damage reports continued, and it took the bridge crew several more seconds to realize their commander was not replying, not issuing damage control orders.

Cadet J'Intar unstrapped himself from his console and stumbled towards the Elder, losing his footing along the way as a volley of energy weapons fire impacted the ventral hull.

"We've got dozens of hull breaches all over the ship! We were rammed by two of their light capitals, and now were taking fire by another three. I don't think we can take much more!," J'Intar heard somebody from across the bridge shout as he struggled back to his feet, fighting against the constant shuddering under his feet as the _Pious Inquisitor_ took and returned fire with what few guns remained.

J'Intar finally reach the Elder and sank to his knees, checking the Tau commanders vitals and screaming out for a medical team in panic as he realised the three hundred year old Elder was moments away from death, his face bloodied and neck broken. Frantically, J'Intar began shouting for someone, anyone, to help him.

Moments later, a medical team arrived on the bridge and immediately set about stabilising the commander, even as the badly damaged ship shuddered far more violently than before. For now, both the ship and the commanders lives hung by a thin thread. If they didn't get help soon, then no matter what the medical team did for the Elder, it would not matter, for they would all be dead.

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**March 3****rd****,**** 2187**

**The Battle Of Outpost 31**

**Flight Leader P'Tars **_**Sabre**_**-class SSF-133**

"Son-of-a-bitch!," P'Tar heard one of the human pilots shout unbearably loudly over the COM link, "they just hit the _Inquisitor_! Rammed full on the aft side. It looks like she's drifting!"

Suddenly, the obnoxiously loud voice of the human pilot seemed justified, as P'Tar abandoned the chase of the enemy gunboat to his wingman and swung his _Sabre_ around to get visual confirmation. What he saw stunned him even more than the destruction of the battlecruiser _Ascendant _had.

The mighty _Void Farer_-class Tau battleship _Pious Inquisitor_ was drifting out of formation, alight with too-bright flames and sporadic flashes of weapons fire, a trio of enemy light capital ships harassing the vessel with energy weapons.

_Son-of-a-bitch!_, P'Tar repeated the human phrase in his head, _I've got to do something! Anything!_

Just as he was about to order his squadron to form up on a bomber wing for a strike against the enemy ships attacking the _Inquisitor_, however, the large, still somewhat elegant curved form of the Tau battleship was blocked out by the smaller, blockier, but no less deadly shape of the human battleship.

With no escorts near the two battleships, and the enemy ships arcing high above the dorsal side of the Tau ship, the _Endeavour_ had a clear line of fire to deliver a broadside. And that's exactly what happened.

Even as P'Tar continued to instinctively keep his fighter moving, never going in a straight line for longer than three seconds, and keeping his crafts nose pointed in the general direction of the Allied battleships, he witnessed, for the first time, a human battleship deliver a devastating broadside.

Rail guns, laser and plasma cannons, anti-ship nuclear missiles and the two dual barrelled Particle Accelerator Cannons fired. Space around the battleship seemed to light up like a sun going nova, and the ship itself was actually pushed several hundred metres out of position as all its guns fire at once. The end result was nothing short of gratifying overkill.

The three enemy ships were caught out in the open, and their shields winked out of existence in a hundredth of a second, their hulls lasting only a tenth of a second longer, and the trio of enemy vessels lit up the space once again. When the super-bright explosions faded and the polarized cockpit glass returned to normal polarity again, all that remained of the three ships were a few molten chunks of debris, flying away into space in all directions, some pieces bouncing off of or embedding in the hull of the _Pious Inquisitor_.

P'Tar breathed deep, thoroughly relieved, as a pair of under strength escort squadrons and a heavy cruiser moved into a tight escort formation around the critically damaged Tau flagship. He was startled out of his relief as his wingman's voice suddenly screamed over his COM link

"Heads up on your six, Boss!," the voice of Cutter Three called out over the void of space, and P'Tar instantly swung his fighter around, so that he was now upside down and flying backwards relative to the enemy gunboat. He fired off his last two AMRAAMs and tugged hard on the trigger for his laser cannons. Red pulses of light strobed rapidly on either side of his cockpit as he fired a ten second burst at the ship, the missiles stripping away the shields and the laser cannons finishing the job.

P'Tar thanked his wingman for the warning, then scanned the area around him, both visually with his eyes and with the onboard sensor suite. He registered no hostile contacts except for a few of the enemies light capital ships, and even as he watched, two of those contacts faded from the display. For P'Tar, it looked like the battle was over

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle Of Outpost 31**

**UNSC **_**Endeavour**_

Rear Admiral Aleksandir Vladislov smiled ever-so-slightly as cheering erupted all over the bridge as the three ships harassing their Tau counterpart were destroyed under the crushing firepower of their broadside. The _Pious Inquisitor_, like almost every other heavy ship in the fleet, was suffering tremendous damage. Even the _Endeavour_'s forward and aft weapons were mostly offline, their shields were barely operational thanks to a suicidal enemy cruiser analogue and their main engines were fluctuating badly, sometimes giving full thrust, sometimes not even pushing the ship forward.

"Sir," Ensign Williams at sensors called, a smile gracing his youthful features, "sensors indicate that there are no longer any enemy ships still in the fight, they've all been disabled or destroyed."

"Excellent news, Ensign," Vladislov praised, the small smile on his face widening just a little more. The words that came out of Lieutenant Sandra Okinawa's mouth next erased that smile.

"Sir, I'm getting a report from the _Pious Inquisitor_. They…they're saying that they've been boarded by an unknown number of hostiles!," the pretty young woman had a look of obvious distress on her face, which Vladislov could certainly understand. No boarding craft had been seen leaving any of the enemy ships, so how had they gotten onboard?

"Confirm that please, Lt."

"It's been confirmed, sir. The _Inquisitor_'s AI is reporting small arms fire fights breaking out all over the ship," Okinawa confirmed, the distress even more evident in her voice. The Tau ship had suffered crippling damage, and enormous shipboard casualties.

"Alert the _Inquisitor_ that I'm sending over half our onboard Marine contingent and a Shock Trooper platoon to reinforce their security forces, then get me a direct line, with Platinum channel encryption back to the Sierra Fleet yards, eyes only for Vice-Admiral Michelle Lucas," Vladislov ordered, then turned his attention to Akira's holo tank.

"Akira, estimate total losses for both fleets from that engagement please."

Akira's avatar appeared on the holo tanks display once again, and the 'man' bowed deeply to the Admiral.

"Estimate 122 enemy gunboats destroyed, 467 enemy fighters destroyed, 49 enemy light capital ships destroyed and four disabled, fourteen enemy heavy cruiser analogues destroyed and one disabled. Eighteen enemy heavy cruiser analogues and the single enemy battlecruiser escaped to hyperspace moments before the enemies final charge," Akira reported calmly, "total enemy big ships destroyed or disabled 68. Total enemy fighters and gunboats destroyed 589."

"Estimate 24 Allied corvettes destroyed and two disabled, 11 Allied frigates destroyed and three disabled, three Allied destroyers destroyed and nine disabled, five Allied light cruisers destroyed and two disabled, two Allied heavy cruisers destroyed and one disabled, one Allied battlecruiser destroyed and one disabled, one Allied battleship disabled, 102 Allied fighters destroyed and 21 disabled, 46 Allied bombers destroyed and 53 disabled, 29 Allied gunboats disabled and 14 destroyed," Akira continued, "total Allied big ships destroyed or disabled 65. Total Allied strike craft and gunboats destroyed or disabled 265."

_Jesus-fucking-Christ_, Vladislov thought, _we were damn lucky. If those other ships had stayed and fought to the death, our losses could have been a lot higher._

Ultimately, this war was shaping up to be just as costly as the Alkaid War had, and it was only an hour and a half old.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**The Battle of Outpost 31**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_

Security Officer L'Tan felt his stomach muscles clench in anxiety as the sounds of small arms fire echoed throughout the unusually barren corridors of the Tau battleship. To either side of him sat the other seven members of the security detail he commanded, and roughly ten metres ahead of them stood the hulking shapes of four Tau Republic Marines in their bulky powered battle armour, heavy repeating rail guns held firmly in their massive armoured gauntlets.

L'Tan and his detail were tasked with defending engineering and the various technicians, engineers and crewmembers tucked away behind the massive armoured doors. One of the Security Cadets beside him jumped and nearly fired his weapon when a nearby panel sparked and short circuited.

"Be calm, young one," L'Tan said, wishing with all his being he could follow his own advice, "the enemy will be upon us shortly, and we must be iron-willed and prepared to meet them face to face when that time comes."

The Cadet nodded, and then visibly calmed just in time to hear the metallic tone of a battle armoured Marines voice coming over his helmet speakers.

"Contact!," the hunk of walking armour shouted, and no sooner had the word reached the ears of the security detail, than the muffled thumps of the enemies oddly designed energy weapons firing registered in their minds.

Just as the security detail raised their weapons to return fire, the loud clatter of rapid rail gun fire took over, easily drowning out the sounds of the enemies own fire. L'Tan watched as half a dozen of the vaguely humanoid, armoured aliens collapsed under the Marines fire, before the rest had a chance to take cover.

L'Tan and his security detail finally began firing their own light rail rifles, keeping the fire up in short controlled burst, hoping to keep the enemies heads down. A trio of golden energy bolts flashed past L'Tan's head, and a pained cry let him know that one of his men had been hit.

The clatter of weapons fire was deafening, even with the hearing protectors that were supposed to block out or at least severely muffle anything louder than 90 decibels. Two more of the serpent headed creatures collapsed, falling out of cover, one of them screaming for a short while before a hail of rail gun fire silenced him.

One of the Marines fell back, crying out in agony after being hit a half dozen times in the chest, molten rivers of armour flowing away from a gaping hole in the armoured breastplate. L'Tan scrambled forward, lying low on his stomach behind the armoured form of the now-dead Marine using the thickly armoured corpse as cover. A burst of rail rounds from his rifle ended the life of another invader.

Behind him, someone had the presence of mind to shout "Grenade out!", before said grenade sailed of L'Tan's head and bounced of the wall at the far end of the corridor, bouncing out of sight around the corner.

There was a series of startled shouts from the enemy troops hiding out around the corner, then a muffled explosion as the fragmentation grenade went off. The enemy return fire slackened off suddenly, and as one the three remaining Marines five remaining security personnel roared, stepped out from cover and charged, weapons fire full auto.

The enemy dared not poke their heads around the corner to return fire under the weight of rail rounds, and, as expected, stayed behind cover. As soon as the defenders rounded the corner, however, on marine an two more security personnel dropped to the ground under a hail of golden bolts. The nine enemy soldiers still standing were cut down by the rail rifles and cannons.

The brief but viscous sortie now over, L'Tan's shoulders slumped forward as he turned to count the dead. He rounded the corner, and did a quick count, five security personnel and two marines were dead, and one of the security Cadets was injured. L'Tan knelt beside one of the dead and sighed, closing the young males eyes, then turned his head to the Marines as they dragged the only survivor of the enemy attackers away from his deceased fellows.

Walking over to the apparently unconscious alien, L'Tan checked his rifles ammo counter, and changed magazines, loading a fresh 250 round standard mag. He had used a lot more ammo than he would have liked in that fire fight, but he supposed it wasn't to be helped.

The Marine gestured to L'Tan to do the honours, and he nodded back to the armoured head and knelt beside their prisoner. He fumbled around with the helmet, searching for some kind of latch or release mechanism. With a soft click, his fingers found what they were looking for, and the helmet parted, disappearing into the back of the armour somewhere.

Eyes wide, L'Tan stared at the unmasked fiend, his mind working over time to try and work out just what he was seeing because the alien wasn't an alien at all, it was…

_Human? How? How is this possible? Humans come from Earth, and there are no humans out this far from Human or Tau colonies, unless they were pirates, but if that was the case then where did they get their ships and equipment and-_

L'Tan's train of thought was interrupted abruptly as an unusual shout and the thud of heavy footsteps reached his ears.

"Jaffa, kree!," came the odd shout, and immediately L'Tan was dragged around the corridor by one of the Marines, the other one warning the rest of security detail about the enemy reinforcements.

_I think it's going to be a long day…_

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A/N: And that's the end of that chapter. In the next chapter, we see the rest of the battle for control of the Tau battleship, the conversation between Rear Admiral Vladislov and Vice-Admiral Lucas, the beginnings of another massive military build up by the Allies, and we learn that the Goa'uld and the Allies weren't the only ones present at The Battle Of Outpost 31. Don't forget to R&R, but remember, no flames. Let me know if you have any ideas/requests that might help me improve on this story. Stay tuned for the next chapter, Special Operations And Galactic Politics.


	4. Special Operations & Galactic Politics

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

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**To Jumper Prime: **I have to say I'm sorry - and a little embarrassed - by that little mistake, and thank you for pointing that out to me. It's been about six years since I last saw the original movie (although I've been meaning to buy the DVD for some time now), so that explains how I forgot that Ra used Horus Guards, and not Serpent Guards. In this chapter, I was going to give a little bit more of a background to the way my AU Goa'uld Union acts, and how the Goa'uld themselves interact with each other, so instead of going back and editing the previous chapter, I'm going to offer a plausible explanation in this one.

**To Darth Kiryan: **Thanks for the review, it gives me a somewhat better idea of what people want to see more of. I'm sorry to say this chapter won't be as action packed, as the last, although it should be anything but boring. Hopefully.

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**March 3****rd**** , 2187**

**Sierra Fleet Yards**

**UNSC Dreadnought **_**Jasper's Way**_

Vice-Admiral Michelle Lucas was lying on her bunk in her quarters aboard her new flagship. The _Jasper_ was the first of twelve dreadnoughts to be constructed at the Sierra Fleet Yards this year, and as it was the first to be completed, it had been temporarily assigned to the Sierra defence fleet while it tested out its weapons and critical systems.

Today's tests had been completed a little over an hour ago, and the half kilometre walk from the flag bridge to the main mess hall had added just that little bit to Lucas's fatigue, the straw that broke the camels back, so to speak. With a biological age of 103, but the appearance of a middle aged woman, Lucas wasn't as fit as she had been when she had first started her military career nearly seventy years ago, despite the strict training regimen and the aid of various gene therapies and regenerative drugs and, more recently, nanotechnology.

The Admiral had been awake and active since the _Jasper_ had been completed two-and-a-half days ago, handling crisis after crisis, no matter how small or how big. The dreadnought had to be ready for combat by the end of the week, and already the ship had had to return to dry dock twice, once when a fluctuation in one the hydrogen fusion reactors had been detected, and once more to readjust the rail gun turret alignment.

Lucas had just closed her eyes and started to drift off when her COM link beeped, and the voice of her XO, Captain Jeremiah Hewitt echoed throughout the room.

"Admiral Lucas, we've received an eyes-only, Platinum encryption communiqué from Rear Admiral Vladislov," the Captains deep, baritone voice forced Lucas out of her bed and over to her desk.

"Put it through to my desk console please, Jerry," she replied as she took her seat.

"Yes, ma'am." A moment after the COM link cut off, the holo tank in her desk activated and the scarred, scowling face of Aleksandir Vladislov appeared before her.

"Alek," Lucas started, "I do hope this is important, I was just in the middle of my first rack time in more than two days."

"Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, ma'am, but I think this warrants your full attention," Vladislov stated, all business as usual.

"Alright, what do you have for me?," Lucas returned, her interest piqued.

"As you no doubt know, sixteen hours ago the Tau lost contact with one of their deep space hyperspace monitoring stations, specifically Outpost 31, about a parsec from the Hubris system. Five hours later, the recon patrol failed to check in with Sierra FLEETCOM at the designated time. The 22nd UNSC battle group, commanded by myself, and the 8th TRN battle group, commanded by one Elder K'Hahn, was sent to investigate in force," the younger Admiral began, recounting all the details of the mission Lucas herself, as current ranking officer in the Sierra system, had authorized.

"As you said, Admiral, I already know all of this, so if you could please get to the point, it would be much appreciated."

"Hard contact," Vladislov stated flatly. Immediately, any signs - and feelings - of fatigue on Lucas's person vanished, replaced with perplexity and a not-so-small dose of concern.

"Say again, Alek?," she asked, although she already knew her hearing had not failed her.

"Hard contact, ma'am. When we entered the system, there was a fair-sized alien fleet here, as well as the remains of Outpost 31 and the recon group that was sent ahead of us. Just moments later, were contacted on a subspace frequency, which was relayed to all the ships of my fleet, and a human, or at least human like being appeared on the holo display," Vladislov paused for a moment as he waited for that piece of information to sink in.

A variety of expressions flickered across the Lucas's face, the first being shock, followed quickly by disbelief. It wasn't that she didn't believe Vladislov, so much that she didn't believe that humankind could have evolved on a world other than Earth, and there was no way a privateer or pirate faction would have anywhere near the number of heavy ships to be any kind of a threat to 142 Allied warships.

"What happened after you made contact, and how did it turn into a fight?," Lucas asked, ignoring the urge to ask more questions before the younger man had the chance to reply to her first.

"Not a great deal really. The being referred to itself as 'Ra', and apparently he believed himself to be something of a god. I questioned this 'Ra' about the destruction of the Outpost and the recon group, which he pretty much admitted to being the culprit of. He then threatened myself and the rest of the battle group with a similar fate if we did not, and I quote, 'bow down to his divine will'," Vladislov spoke with the same monotone as he always maintained when giving a report. When Lucas did not reply, Vladislov took it as a sign that he should continue.

"I'm preparing to send you all the data we gathered, both before and after the battle. It will include enemy fleet formations, fighter and capital ship tactics, effective Allied tactics, gun cam footage from both strike craft and the heavy ships, scanner readings and estimated casualties for both sides," Vladislov said, watching Lucas closely, trying to gauge her reactions. Lucas nodded slowly, seemingly in deep thought, before looking Vladislov square in his holographic eyes.

"There's something else, isn't there Alek? You may as well tell me now, because I'm going to need all the facts when I present your findings to the rest of the Admiralty and the UN Senate," Lucas spoke evenly, years of knowing and having worked alongside Vladislov letting her know immediately that he was holding something back.

Vladislov seemed to hesitate a moment, then sighed and began speaking, "the Tau battleship, the _Pious Inquisitor_, was boarded after taking critical damage and high casualties."

"That doesn't seem like something you would normally hesitate to tell me Alek, now tell me what happened in detail. That's and order, by the way," Lucas stated, frowning deeply in disapproval at her friends apparent anxiety and hesitance to tell her something that was not exactly unusual.

"No boarding craft were detected by anyone in the fleet, yet the enemy managed to get an estimated 300 combatants aboard the _Inquisitor_."

_Now that_, Lucas thought to herself, _that IS unusual._

"Explain."

"We don't know anything for sure, but I've had a few people giving me their hypotheses. The most common one among them was that the enemy have some kind of teleportation systems, not unlike the ones found in the Progenitor Repository on Pluto," Vladislov confessed, referring to the name used for the now-believed-extinct alien race that had left their legacy behind in the Sol system.

Lucas sat back in her seat and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. If that theory was proven correct, then there were only three plausible explanations for it; first, the humanlike aggressors had discovered a repository or two of their own and figured out the secret to teleportation were both human and Tau scientists had failed, second, the aggressors _were_ the Progenitors, or at least their descendants, and third, the aggressors were the race responsible for the extinction of the progenitors.

Of those theories, the first seemed most likely, as if this 'Ra' and his followers were the Progenitors or the race that had killed them off, then it was highly unlikely that Vladislov would have survived a hostile encounter with them, let alone won.

"Okay, Alek, honest opinion. If we do go to war with these people, what do you think our chances are of winning," Lucas queried, glancing at her control panel and noting that the promised data packet had arrived.

Vladislov was quiet for a long time, a look of consternation on his face. If at all possible, his scowl deepened further, before vanishing completely as his facial expression became neutral.

"Assuming that their territory and military strength is of roughly equal size to ours, and that they don't have any allies, then I'd say we have a better than 80 percent chance of winning, but we will likely take very heavy losses," came the answer, finally.

"And if their strength is greater, or they have allies?"

It was silent again in her quarters as Vladislov conferred with someone out of view, probably a member of his bridge crew or a strategist. When Vladislov turned to face Lucas again, the scowl was back with a vengeance.

"Akira, the _Endeavour_'s AI, informs me that if that is the case, then our chances of success drop below 40 percent," Vladislov sighed.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**Aftermath of The Battle**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_**, Starboard Hangar Bay**

Captain Francis O'Malley, UNSC Marine Corps, 105th Shock Trooper Division, was the first man out of the _Hellcat_ boarding craft that had ferried himself and his platoon, 8th/105th, from the _Endeavour_ to reinforce the remainder of the TRN personnel aboard the _Inquisitor_. Given the fact that the Tau battleships structural integrity was somewhat less than optimal in most parts of the vessel, the boarding parties had been forced to land in the remaining hangar bay, rather than breaching the ships hull in strategic locations to best cut off and deal with the enemy boarders.

The Shock Troopers were equipped with the latest - and most expensive - equipment, weapons and armour available to anyone outside of SOCOM. Their armour, the _Trident_ Powered Combat Armour Mark IV, was the first personal body armour to feature an integrated, self-regenerating personal energy shield, and a shoulder mounted plasma cannon, all powered by a double-fist sized hydrogen fusion reactor with a combat life of over 400 hours, and a standby life 2800 hours.

O'Malley, sixty two years old and an actual Earthborn Irishman, something rare for a battle group based so far away from the Homeworld, had been a shock trooper for close to thirty five years, and a Captain for fifteen and had been involved in dozens of boarding actions against pirate and privateer ships, as had the rest of the 8th/105th.

Without even having to issue a single order, the platoon - thirty six men, including the Captain - split up into six kill-teams of six, and began heading to the four different exits to the vast hangar bay.

O'Malley himself weaved through the crowds of men and women in the hangar bay, dodging past triage teams working diligently on wounded crewmembers and security teams moving out to secure the entrances. The starboard hangar bay, the only hangar bay left on the grievously wounded battleship, was probably the most secure area aboard, aside from the bridge. As O'Malley and his team, Unit One, approached entryway three accompanied by Unit Three, he used his NCI (Neural Command Interface) implant to activate the platoon's secure COM link.

"All right then, boys and girls, here's the order of play. Unit One, we're securing engineering, Unit Two has the bridge, Three gets Primary Fire Control, Four has Secondary Fire Control, Five has the Tactical Command Centre and Six gets Life Support and Artificial Gravity Control. Move it out, and don't forget we want some of these jokers taken alive for questioning," O'Malley barked out, his smooth Irish brogue ruined by his habit of smoking cigars, giving his voice a more gravely undertone. Shutting down the COM link to the other units, he switched to Unit Ones frequency and ordered them to get a move on.

They had a lot of ground to cover, and O'Malley suspected he had very little time in which to cover it.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**Aftermath of The Battle**

**Cloaked Tok'ra Tel'tak Cargo Ship, One Light-hour from Human-Tau fleet**

The three occupants of the Tel'tak had yet to fully recover the shock of seeing the alien fleet force Ra himself to run from a fight, but they still had the presence of mind to continue recording as much data on the newcomers as possible. It was readily apparent, thanks to the obvious differences in starship design, their were two separate races commanding the fleet.

Their technology seemed roughly equal, as both allied factions had fired a curious mix of projectile, nuclear and energy weapons during the battle. That, and both powered their vessels with what appeared to be some kind of very advanced hydrogen fusion reactors, although still inferior to naquada reactors, and that their engines had an Ion signature that was almost exactly the same.

The Tok'ra in the cargo ship had been picking up a good deal of subspace communications coming from all ships, most of it aimed at the largest of the ugly, blocky ships that they had witnessed destroying three Goa'uld Ha'tak in a single weapons volley. From that ship, however, they detected a single subspace data stream that was not directed at any of the ships in the fleet. They couldn't decipher what was in the message, but they could follow it to its destination.

After a short debate between the three occupants, the decision was made and the pilot entered the desired coordinates and made the jump to hyperspace.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**Aftermath of The Battle**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_

L'Tan huddled against the wall of the corridor leading to engineering, blind firing his rail rifle around the corner as golden bolts of energy slammed into the wall opposite him, charring the thin battle plate designed to ward off small arms fire to protect the vital systems running through the cables hidden beneath the battle plate.

L'Tan's own ceramic-titanium composite armoured breastplate had a pair of divots scored into it from two glancing hits from the strange staff like weapon their enemy was using. Beside L'Tan, the one remaining Marine swung around the corner, firing a stream of rounds form his much larger calibre rail gun, and to the Taus satisfaction, a loud scream of pain was cut abruptly short under the hail of fire.

The Marine took a hit to the shoulder and stumbled back behind cover, the armoured shoulder plate glowing bright orange from the intense heat.

"They're trying to move in closer!," the Marine shouted over the din of small arms fire, as he checked over his weapon to make sure it wasn't damaged, "anyone got any grenades left?"

L'Tan checked with the two remaining security officers, both of whom shook their heads. Looking back at the power armoured form of the Marine, L'Tan repeated the action. The Marine cursed, threw his weapon to the ground, and unslung the laser rifle from his back. L'Tan glanced quickly at the rail gun lying on the ground, and noticed that the weapon was warped just in front of the pistol grip, probably from a direct hit from one of those staff weapons.

Although rail guns were the preferred infantry weapons, laser and plasma weapons were slowly gaining more and more popularity amongst the Allied ground forces, and many had started taking one or the other as a secondary weapon should their rail guns run out of ammo.

"All right, we've got no grenades," the Marine started speaking again, attaching a device to the modular rail beneath the laser rifles barrel, "that's going to make this a little more difficult to pull off."

L'Tan watched curiously as the marine tapped a button on his helmet, then a moment later a similar button on the small device now firmly attached to the rifles barrel. He noted that the device looked somewhat similar to a camera. Behind him, the two other security officers continued firing short bursts of rail gun round around the corner, cringing back into cover as the enemy intensified their own fire in return.

The Marine moved back up against the wall and shoved the two smaller Tau aside, then aimed the laser rifle around the corner and fired a single shot. From over the sound of gunfire, a loud shout of pain could be heard. The Marine fired again, this time a short burst, and another scream could be heard. The Marine pulled back around the corner and quickly checked over his weapon, before aiming it around the corner and firing again, the burst of laser fire yet again accompanied by a shout.

By this time, L'Tan had figured out that the device the Marine had attached to his weapon _was_ a small camera, and he had connected it wirelessly to his helmets Heads-Up Display and was using it to aim whilst remaining in cover.

"Okay!," the Marine shouted to the three other Tau, " I'm going to fire full auto for a few seconds! When I do, I want you three to run over to the other side of the corridor and deploy the defence barriers!"

L'Tan grinned to himself as he realised the Marines plan. The defence barriers were wall mounted, deployable armour plated shields that defending soldiers could use as cover when fending off boarders. With the barriers deployed, the remaining Tau defending engineering would be able to fire from two different areas, increasing the fire output and hopefully their chances of survival.

The Marine stayed behind cover a moment longer, then shouted "GO!", and leaned his rifle around the corner and opened fire full auto. Instantly, the enemy fire slackened and the three Tau security officers charged out into the open, firing their own weapons in an attempt to make sure their the enemy kept their heads down. For the most part it work, however one of the Tau stumbled slightly over the corpse of one of the Marines and was instantly struck down by a quartet of energy bolts.

L'Tan skidded to a halt right in front of the control panel and slapped the button marked 'Deploy', and instantly a six inch thick slab of armour erupted out of the wall, intercepting a volley of fire that was nanoseconds away from cutting L'Tan and the last remaining Tau aside from the Marine into bloody ribbons. L'Tan grinned and slapped the shoulder plate of the Tau beside him, even as he realised that the last security officer with him was the nervous youth he had reassured before the first fire fight. With a nod, the young Tau leaned over the top of the barrier and fired a burst down the corridor, earning a satisfactory screech of pain for his efforts. L'Tan, amazed of the change that had taken place in the youth, shook his head and opened fire around the side of the barrier.

_We might get ourselves out of this yet_, he thought to himself.

At that exact moment, the lights went out, and L'Tan found himself completely blind aside from the flashes of gunfire.

_Damn…_

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**Goa'uld Union System Lords Meeting Chambers**

**Undisclosed Location**

Baal sneered derisively as Ra continued to make ridiculous excuses for the loss of an entire fleet. A quick glance at Apophis, Ra's only real rival for the title of Supreme System Lord, confirmed to Baal that he was utterly infuriated.

_And rightly so_, Baal thought_, a good portion of the ships that Ra lost were his._

"Imbecile!," Apophis practically shrieked, clearly having had enough of Ra's excuses.

"You are questioning my authority as Supreme System Lord?," Ra questioned, his eyes flashing menacingly. Even Apophis was not fool enough to admit to that.

"No. I am questioning your loyalty to this Union, to the pact we all made when the Wraith invaded 150 years ago!," Apophis shouted, referring to the unprecedented attack a dozen Wraith Hive ships had made long ago, apparently having hibernated for the centuries it took for their hyper drive to cross the galactic void. Looking around the chamber at the other System Lords, he continued, "I take it at least some of you have noticed that almost all the ships that were 'lost' to this new enemy were the ones we all donated to the fleet we sent with Ra?"

There was a murmur around the chamber, as the other System Lords conferred amongst themselves. Of the ships sent with Ra, Apophis had lost fourteen Ha'tak and twenty Al'kesh, and everyone else in the room had sent at least half a dozen ships, with Baal himself having lost several of his upgraded Ha'tak. The murmurs rose in volume as each System Lord tried to speak above the rest, until everyone, with the exception of Baal, was shouting and arguing amongst themselves.

"Silence," a single voice spoke, the volume low, but it was heard by everyone and they all stopped speaking at the same time as the cloaked form of Anubis stepped out of the shadows. No matter how much collective power the System Lords had at their command, they all knew that Anubis was the one with the real power, and even if they betrayed Anubis and managed to destroy his fleets and armies, they would never be able to kill Anubis thanks to his semi-ascended state. Ultimately, the System Lords were nothing more than Anubis' pawns, his Lieutenants so to speak.

"It is obvious that no matter Ra's failings, this new enemy is a threat to all we have accomplished since my return," Anubis continues speaking, making his way to stand in the centre of the room, "Their ships are clearly powerful, and their commanders adept. It is clear to me, as it should be to all of you, that we need more information about them. Where they come from, how many worlds they control, how large their fleets and armies are. And once we know all of this, it should be a simple matter, even for fools like yourselves, to root them out and destroy them wherever they may be."

Anubis' short speech was met with murmurs of agreement from around the room, and Baal found himself smiling as he noted the evident frustration and embarrassment on Ra's face. For Baal, this particular series of events may well be just what he had been waiting for, and if all went in his favour, then he would soon be able to usurp Ra as Supreme System Lord.

Before that happened, however, Baal needed to be rid of Apophis. Then the only 'person' he would have to answer to was Anubis himself, and Baal was quite sure that there was some way to kill that overbearing buffoon. All he needed was a plan.

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**March 3****rd****, 2187**

**Aftermath of The Battle**

**TRN Battleship **_**Pious Inquisitor**_

Captain O'Malley nodded to himself as he received reports from the rest of the platoon. It seemed that for the most part, the _Inquisitor_ was secure, with only engineering still under siege.

As O'Malley and his squad cautiously approached engineering, he noticed that the lights seemed to have gone out for several corridors, and the sounds of small arms fire had intensified considerably.

_Probably trying to shoot each other in the dark_, O'Malley thought, before checking over his rail gun and making a last minute diagnostic on his armour systems.

_Shields, check. Sensors, check. Visual modes, all check. Plasma cannon, check. Hydraulics and servo motors, all clear. Internal biofoam injectors, check. Looks like I'm as ready as I'll ever be_, O'Malley ran through the checklist in his head. Biofoam was a recent advancement in medical technology, and all power armoured battle suits had a series of injectors placed internally to provide first aid. It contained a mixture of local anaesthetics, stimulants and medical nanomachines which deadened the pain of a wound, kept the combatant conscious and able to continue fighting and sped up the healing process h hundred-fold.

"Unit One, systems check," O'Malley ordered to the rest of the squad. Immediately, orange acknowledgment lights winked on at the leftmost edge of his HUD, followed shortly thereafter by green 'all clear' lights replacing the acknowledgments. As O'Malley sent his own acknowledgement that he had received their status reports, he slid up close to the wall just a meter short of a corner in the corridor.

Just around the corner, O'Malley could hear the unfamiliar sounds of the enemy troops weapons firing, and, barely audible over the din, the much more familiar sounds of rail guns and laser weapons returning fire. There was a strobing effect from the close by weapons fired, bright, intermittent flashes of light rendering night vision useless and making it impossible for the human - or Tau, for that matter - eye to adjust. It did not, however, make infrared useless.

With a series of hand signals, (one can never be too sure that the enemy is incapable of hearing you) O'Malley ordered the squad to switch to infrared and form up into an attack position, heavy gunners equipped with the heavy hand held plasma cannons to go in first, the rest of the squad right behind them. O'Malley watched as his own infrared took over his vision, and his squadmates became bright blobs of yellow, orange, red and green against a background of dark blue. The Captain held up his left hand and began a slow countdown with his fingers.

_3...2...1!_

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L'Tan grimaced as his eyes struggled futilely to adjust to the constant changes of brightness that came from so many weapons firing within such close proximity to each other. The Marine across the hallway seemed to be faring much better, probably something to do with the armoured battle suits various vision modes. L'Tan stood to fire again, managing to drop another of the serpent headed invaders, before an energy bolt slammed into his already weakened shoulder plate, burning right through into the flesh the shoulder plate hade been protecting.

He fell back, shrieking in agony, even as the youthful Tau beside him cringed away from the returning fire and tried to aid L'Tan. L'Tan's vision blurred as he fought hard to retain his consciousness, and his hearing seemed to become muffled slightly. He found himself wondering if this is what it was like to die.

_Surely I can't be dying. Its only a shoulder wound!_

L'Tan blinked many times in rapid succession, finally overcoming the blurry vision, just in time to see the steady stream of golden light moving past above him and splashing against the wall to cease. He strained his hearing as much as he could, and was gratified to hear what sounded light rail gun and plasma fire over the sound of the enemies staff weapons.

_Thank the Great Elder, help has arrived_, were L'Tan's last thought before he finally gave up the fight and everything turned to black.

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O'Malley's shields flashed silver as a pair of energy bolts struck him mid-stride, causing the status bar to drop by a small amount and the numeric indicator to flash as the shield integrity dropped by 17 percent. Less than a second after taking the hits, O'Malley had cut down his assailant in a hail of hyper velocity rounds, his auto tracking shoulder mounted plasma canon firing into the belly of another as he aimed his staff weapon at the Captains side.

O'Malley swung around his rifle, not even bothering to aim, and fired a burst into another of the invaders at the same moment as one of his squadmates, the serpentine figure collapsing in a shower of blood and armour fragments. He turned again, just in time to see one of the Shock Troopers drop to one knee, his shields breached and his armour taking several hits before someone had the presence of mind toss a fragmentation grenade into the group of enemies that were responsible.

At the end of the hallway, a battle armoured Tau Marine stepped out of cover, raised his laser rifle and fired a burst of coherent light energy past O'Malley's head, cutting down another of the aliens even as it raised its staff weapon, preparing to club the Captain upside the head. O'Malley waved his thanks to the Marine, and the Tau returned the gesture even as the human turned away to survey the rest of the 'fight'. Of the two dozen aliens they had discovered firing on the Marine and whoever else was with him, only three had been taken alive, and two of those were badly wounded.

It would seem that the fight for the _Pious Inquisitor_ was over.

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**March 4****th****, 2187**

**High Command, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Imperial**_

"Surely we should be trying to reason with them. Only a logical creature can build ships, become a stellar power, and all logical creatures must want peace," Senator Samantha Bachmann, representative of the Gannis System voiced her opinion yet again, having stated that exact phrase three times since this Senatorial Conference had been called to session nearly eleven hours previously. Having had hourly breaks since the beginning had not saved the more aggressive Senators or the military personnel from the frustration the felt at Bachmann's persistence.

"Forgive me, Senator, but what kind of fool are you?," Major General Arthur Fields responded, finally fed up.

"Have you forgotten the Alkaid War? They had ship building capabilities, so therefore, by _your_ logic, they should have wanted nothing more than peace with us. I'm sure you haven't forgotten how the war went," Fields continued, earning murmurs and nods of agreement form the majority of the rooms inhabitants. Bachmann looked suitably chastised, but refused to give up.

"I have not forgotten the Alkaid War, but they were the exception that proves the rule. The recordings of the events that led up to the fight between Rear Admiral Vladislov's group and the alien fleet show that no serious attempts at starting peace talks were made. Admiral Vladislov event went so far as to mock them!," Bachmann exclaimed. Silence reigned over the room until the Tau representative from Sierra stood and began speaking.

"I saw the recordings as well, Senator Bachmann, and while your efforts to maintain peace have earned you great respect from all Tau, I'm afraid I must agree with General Fields. Although Admiral Vladislov did indeed seem to mock the being that contacted his group, you seem to have forgotten that that same being killed hundreds of Tau and humans at the Outpost and the small group of ships sent to investigate, and then demanded that Admiral Vladislov surrender himself and accept this 'Ra' as his god," Representative Elder I'Pah responded, before bowing respectfully and returning to his seat.

There was a moment of chaos as the many people in the room began arguing amongst themselves, some about the ridiculous implication that the being in the recordings could possibly be a god, others about whether or not war was a truly viable option. A loud alert sounded out over the loudspeakers in the room, and slowly the rabble began to quiet down, until all was silent once again and the most powerful human in existence began speaking.

"Regardless of whether or not we should consider suing for peace with these people," President Harold Berkley, leader of all human government, started, "It is clear to me that much more information is needed. We don't even know what they call themselves, let alone how large their territories are, how powerful their armies or fleets. Therefore, I am authorising General Fields' request to prepare a SOCOM stealth cruiser flotilla to follow the hyperspace trajectory that the escaping vessels of Ra's fleet took and attempt to insert Special Forces teams on one of their worlds, should one be found."

A number of agreements - and arguments - arose, and were immediately silenced as the President raised his hand.

"I have made my decision, and it stands. This meeting is hereby adjourned until the SOCOM ships return with further intelligence on the aliens," Berkley finished, before standing and making his way out of the room.

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**March 4****th****, 2187**

**Edge of the Sierra System**

**Cloaked Tok'ra Tel'tak Cargo Ship**

The three Tok'ra had been sitting at the edge of the star system for just over sixteen hours now, and they had gathered quite a lot of intelligence on the newcomers. It was clear to the occupants of the Tel'tak that this system was some kind of military base, evidenced by the large number of what appeared to be orbital shipyards and defence platforms, as well as literally hundreds of ships of shapes and sizes. Some the Tok'ra had seen during the battle between the newcomers and Ra's fleet, some they had not.

One ship in particular had drawn their attention. It was far bigger than any other vessel they had ever seen before, and never strayed more than a million kilometres from the systems fourth planet. The enormous ship had been taking on many small shuttles and fighter craft, and was a constant hub of activity. They had witnessed what they assumed was a test firing of the vessels weapons on the large asteroid field perhaps three light hours from their current position, and had been thoroughly impressed by the apparent ease the ship had demonstrated in destroying asteroids thousands of kilometres in diameter with just a few volleys.

What was truly amazing though, was that almost all of the ships in this system appeared to be commanded by humans. This was unprecedented, humans having developed their own technology, free from Goa'uld subjugation and influence. Even better they appeared to have allies. This would surely be a boon for the Tok'ra, if they could get the humans and their allies to side with them in opposing the System Lords.

After a brief conversation, it was decided that they had enough information and could now report their findings back to the rest of the Tok'ra. The Tel'tak de-cloaked for a short time, then made the hyperspace jump that began its journey back to the Tok'ra, unwittingly setting into motion many great things to come.

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**March 3****rd**** , 2187**

**Sierra Fleet Yards**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Omega**_

In a room onboard the OCF _Omega_, a sensor suite lit up with a confirmed hyperspace entry contact; one that was unscheduled and in an area of space previously believed to be uninhabited by anything other than a few stray asteroids. Had the console been manned at the time, the contact would have immediately been reported and an investigative force would have been sent along the recorded trajectory. As it was, however, the computer system, unoccupied by the artificial intelligence construct that would normally be installed in such a system in the event that something occurred whilst the person manning the station was using the bathroom, as was the case now, simply logged the record of the contact and added it the file cache to be sent to the planetary command centre for review.

Because of that particular unfortunate series of event, even as short as it was, one of the most vital discoveries HICOM could have made about their new enemy would not be discovered until at least a week after the fact.

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**March 7****th****, 2187**

**Former Location Of Hyperspace Monitoring Outpost 31**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

The SOCOM cruiser hung against a backdrop of stars and the hulking forms of Allied warships, its ACSIS stealth system inactive for the time being. The 850 metre long cruiser was one of five in the 16th SOCOM Flotilla, and its ominous shape, reminiscent of some massive, space faring manta ray was matched by the other four. In unison, the five cruisers ran through their systems, starting with the Laser Net point defence grid, a series of interlocking light laser cannons on fast tracking mounts, and the Orbital Human Entry Vehicle launch pods, ending with main weapons, shields and the ACSIS itself.

The Active Camouflage Specialized Infiltration System was essentially a series of tiny holographic displays all over the ship, with cameras constantly recording and updating images of the surrounding space, effectively making the ship invisible to the naked eye. A sophisticated ECM suite and radar absorbent paints and hull materials made it virtually impossible to detect via high tech means as well.

Although the SOCOM Stealth Cruisers were designed for infiltration duties, including transporting teams of highly trained Spectre Special Forces Operatives from world to world, they also had to have the means to defend themselves, and if necessary, fight their way through a blockade of enemy ships in order to retrieve Spectres from behind enemy lines. Because of that, ships like the _Magnus_ were equipped with a very heavy weapons load out for a ship of its size, made up mostly of heavy rail guns and laser cannons, but also a dorsal mounted double barrelled Ion Cannon, an experimental weapon with devastating firepower, and eight frontal nuclear torpedo tubes.

Soaring past the quintet of ships was a squadron of _Valkyrie_ Heavy Fighters, heading back to their carrier, having completed their CSP duties. Since the battle here four days ago, Rear Admiral Vladislov had received massive reinforcements in the form of two Carrier battle groups and even a Dreadnought battle group. Further away from the bulk of the fleet sat the menacing form of a _Titan_-class Deep Space Fortress, a mobile shipyard and heavy support platform shaped like an eight pointed star and approximately fourteen kilometres in diameter and three kilometres from ventral side to dorsal. Any attempts by their somewhat mysterious enemy to retake this particular area of space would be met with nothing less than devastating resistance on the Allies part.

With a final systems check, the five SOCOM cruisers made the simultaneous transit to hyperspace, headed for their latest mission, and, for some, a date with destiny.

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**March 8****th****, 2187**

**Orbit of Planet Designated P3Y-737**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

The _Magnus_ had been the second last ship of the small flotilla to be designated a planet to conduct their operations on, and since arriving in orbit the crew had been busy taking comprehensive scans of the planet, hoping to find some signs of civilization to insert their Spectre team into. Thus far, they had discovered nothing, but that was soon to change.

With a flash of blue light, the avatar of the _Magnus_' resident AI, Siobhan, appeared before Commander Albert Burrows.

"Commander," Siobhan started, her avatar taking the form of an attractive, sun kissed young woman of South American descent, "I have just spotted something rather unusual on the planets surface."

Siobhan's avatar disappeared as the Commander watched, to be replaced moments later by a small, poorly detailed map being represented in real-time. The map showed what appeared to be some kind of town or village, although the poor resolution made it difficult to make out.

"What am I looking at, Siobhan?," Burrows queried, his eyebrow quirking as the image updated itself as more detailed scans were made.

"If I'm not mistaken, sir, I believe it to be a pre-Industrial era township, although I am registering some kind of artificially generated power source somewhere inside this large building in the centre of town," Siobhan answered, the designated building suddenly taking on a dark blue hue for the Commanders benefit.

The Commander nodded, thinking to himself.

_Not exactly what I would have expected from a space faring race, but for all we know these could be some primitive locals and not a colony._

"The inhabitants?," he spoke aloud.

"From what I can tell, they are human, sir."

"Very well. Please inform Spectre team to get themselves ready for deployment. They have one hour to make the necessary preparations, then send them to their OHEVs and launch them three kilometres from the settlement," the Commander ordered, effectively dismissing Siobhan for the moment. Siobhan's avatar reappeared long enough for her to bow to Burrows, then she disappeared again to see to her duties.

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Sergeant Major James Allen charged into the armoury before the announcement for he and his team to prepare for launch. He pushed his way past a pair of crewmen standing in the corridor talking about some new holo movie, dodged an officer staring intently at a clipboard and slapped his hand against the access panel to Armoury B, only to find the other three members of his team already there.

"God damn it, how do you always get here first?," Allen exclaimed, reaching into his locker and taking out his tailor made ACSIS Scout battle suit and unbuttoning his duty shirt.

"Dunno, Sarge," Corporal Carson Alexander grinned, "maybe you're getting slow in your old age!"

Allen scowled as the rest of his team chuckled and high fived each other. He had long since gotten used to their 'old' jokes, but occasionally they still got on his nerves.

"I'm only fifty three! Its not like I'm a crippled old fart in a retirement home," he growled angrily, slipping out of his pants and beginning to suit up. The rest of his team were in their late thirties or early forties, although none of them looked any older than twenty three. Allen himself could have easily passed for someone in their late twenties.

"Fifty four next week, Sarge," Private Jonah Weber added in, clipping his helmet to the neck of his suit and activating his holographic HUD, then reaching for his rifle to start synchronising the sights with his HUDs targeting reticule.

"Forgot again, didn't you, Sarge?," Private Michael Shehadi spoke up, noticing the faint look of distress on the Sergeants face just before he clipped his helmet into place. Allen chose to ignore the men he had worked with for the past decade, close friends all, and instead concentrated on his rifle. The M66TR Assault Rifle was a rarity these days: it was a gas-operated weapon that took a magazine of sixty 7.62mm armour-piercing rounds, and it was not a rail gun. The weapon was still in production for Special Forces because no one had yet invented an effective and reliably silencer for rail guns. With the M66TR, the only way to detect if a shot had been fired was to look for the brass shell casings or if you were the one being shot at.

"All right guys, time to test the ACSIS out," Allen spoke again, all business now. Acknowledgment lights winked on and one by one his team-mates disappeared, a faint outline all that remained, and he could only see that because he knew where to look and was concentrating hard on seeing them. If one of them move, he'd probably lose them again if it weren't for the battle suits built-in transponder, which presented a small icon over the head of each team mate and projected it onto his HUD in real-time.

Although the ACSIS had been used by SOCOM ships for many years now, it had only recently been perfected enough for it to be made small enough to be man portable, and was still officially in the experimental stage for such uses. Unofficially, it had been ready for full-scale production for nearly a month.

"Okay, deactivate ACSIS then lets head down to the OHEV pods and get ready for a hard drop. Everyone good to go, got everything?"

"Sure thing Sarge, we're all good to go," Shehadi answered for the rest of the team. Allen nodded curtly and motioned for them to move out. As they filed out of the armoury one by one, Allen couldn't help but wonder what they might find on this new world.

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A/N Okay then, that's another chapter down. Don't forget to R&R, but keep your flames to yourself. In the next chapter, Where The Wild Things Are, the Spectre team gets to know the locals and learns some more about the Goa'uld and the state of affairs in this area of the galaxy, the System Lords prepare to go on the offensive and the importance of the Stargate is finally discovered by Earth humans and the Tau. And coming soon, the first interlude that introduces the first of the 'cross-over factions'. Why don't you see if you can figure out who it's gonna be?

Also, for those who don't know SOCOM stands for Special Operations Command, HICOM is High Command and AMRAAM (from the previous chapter) is short for Advanced Medium-Ranged Air-to-Air Missile. Stay tuned, and I should have the next chapter up soon.


	5. Where The Wild Things Are

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

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**March 8****th****, 2187**

**Orbit of Planet Designated P3Y-737**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

For Sergeant Major Allen, the act of dropping through a planets atmosphere with nothing but an inch of composite materials and a single-use shield between you and a horrible fiery death was just another day at the office, so to speak.

He made his way to stand next to the ovoid disposable craft that would take him on his next mission, running his hand over the smooth lines. Silently, he clipped his silenced assault rifle to a specially made rack within the OHEV, and shrugged his small knapsack off his shoulders and stowed it in a storage compartment. Beside him, a trio of technicians were going over the other three drop pods that would be used, while his team-mates stood off to the side, quietly conversing with each other.

This particular part of the ship was somewhat cramped, with only enough space for people to go to and from their assigned pods, and not much else. They were in the ventral missile bay, surrounded by dozens of 600 megaton anti-ship nuclear warheads and 450 megaton hydrogen orbital bombardment torpedoes. There were twelve OHEVs in view, but there were at least two dozen more hidden away in specially made internal launch racks.

With a gentle rap of the knuckles to the side of the pod, he turned and headed back towards his squad. As he grew nearer to them, the hushed tone of Shehadi's voice reached his ears.

"So what do you guys think about the rumours that these new guys are human?," he asked, brushing away an invisible fleck of dirt from his breastplate. Allen was interested in hearing what the others had to say on the subject, as he, like everyone else, had heard the rumours and dismissed them as over exaggerated retellings of the battle five days previously.

"Total bullshit," Weber replied instantly, "there's no way humans could have evolved on any planet other than Earth, and it's just not possible that any humans could be this far out from our territory.

"Much as it disgusts me to admit it, I have to agree with Jonah on this one, Mikey," Alexander spoke up, shooting a toothy grin at Weber. Weber glared back and flipped him off.

"You may be disgusted by me, but your mother sure isn't," he grinned back, resorting to a classic 'Yo Mama' joke, the joke itself being centuries old. Alexander didn't seem to be in the least bit phased. In fact his grin widened as he finally noticed Allen standing off to the side.

"So, you're finally admitting to being a necrophiliac, Weber? You know his mothers been dead for years, we were all at the funeral," Allen spoke up, returning Alexanders grin. Weber spluttered and started to stammer as he tried to explain himself. As the others continued teasing Weber, Allen just stood back from the scene and took it all in. His three arguing friends, the small group of technicians that were half-checking the launch tubes for any faults and half-listening to the Spectres conversation, the dull gleam of light reflecting off of the missile racks.

He tended to be most quiet and observant just before a mission started, knowing that it might be the last time he saw this ship, its crew or the only family he had left, Weber, Shehadi and Alexander. Suddenly, his musings were cut off by the sound of a feminine voice coming over the PA system.

"Children, please. As much as I would like to continue listening to your fruitless bickering, there is the matter of your mission parameters to attend to," Siobhan's voice cut through the small group, making Weber jump in fright.

"Jesus Christ, Siobhan! A little warning next time, huh?," he shouted as Siobhan's avatar appeared on a nearby holo display. Allen's grin returned as Siobhan rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"I have to get my kicks somehow, and what better way than frightening your pathetic human minds?," she replied a grin quirking across her blue lips. Shehadi looked hurt and was the next one to scold the sentient computer.

"Hey, hey, hey sweetheart, if it weren't for these 'pathetic human minds' you wouldn't even exist!," he half shouted.

"I sincerely doubt you three had anything to do with the creation of my kind," she replied wryly, "know if you 'gentlemen' don't mind, could we please get this briefing underway?"

When it looked like Weber was going to continue the argument, Allen glared at him and slowly shook his head. The younger man immediately closed his mouth, and his shoulders slumped slightly forward as he turned his full attention to what Siobhan had to say.

"Thank you. You're mission here is so absurdly simple even a one armed, lobotomized chimpanzee could do it. All you have to do is observe the local settlement for twenty four hours, then make _peaceful _contact with them to try and learn what they might know about our new enemy," she began, putting special emphasis on the word 'peaceful'.

"Isn't that more a job for the Diplomatic Corps than Special Forces?," Allen asked, frowning. The mission did appear to be very simple, and as far as the Sergeant Major knew it _was_ a job that the Diplomatic Corps would be better suited to.

"For the most part, yes. However, I doubt if the diplomats could undertake the second part of the mission. You will be landing here, in standard diamond formation," Siobhan continued, her avatar disappearing, to be replaced by a map of the local area around the settlement with for blinking blue dots that formed the shape of a diamond roughly three kilometres from the village.

"Upon landing and initiating the self-destruct of your OHEVs, Corporal Alexander and Private Weber will split off and head North, to the indicated zone," another blinking dot appeared about two kilometres from the LZ, "and, should the locals prove hostile or alien forces show up, you are to begin a guerrilla campaign against them. If that should happen, the main objective will remain the same, and once you feel you have enough intelligence on the enemy, radio in and we'll send an extraction team to EZ Alpha, with EZ Bravo serving as a secondary site should Alpha be compromised."

As she spoke, two green dots appeared on the display, with the words Alpha and Bravo beside them.

"What are our chances of actually running into hostile forces, ma'am?," Shehadi asked, rasing his hand slightly.

"Right now it could go either way, even split. That is all, gentlemen, if you have no further questions, please head to your OHEVs and get ready for a hard drop," Siobhan answered. Allen frowned slightly as he stared at the now hi-res map. He titled his head slightly and sighed.

"What purpose does the wall around the village serve?," he finally asked. As he waited for an answer, her turned to look at his squad mates to see what they thought about it. All he got were a few shrugs of the shoulders and a shake of the head.

"Unknown, we assume it is probably used to keep any wild animals from wondering into the village. Anything else?," Siobhan returned. When no one answered, she nodded her head.

"Alright, off you go," she ordered, making a shooing motion with her hands before disappearing into the ships network again. The four men exchanged glances, then put their helmets back on and headed to their assigned OHEVs.

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The OHEV shook and rattled violently as it plummeted through the planets atmosphere, and Allen grimaced as the temperature rose considerably, making sweat bead across his brow. He stared intently at the small view screen in front of him, watching the other three pods falling in formation with his. With a quick tap of a key on the side of the view screen, the picture changed, now showing the fading flames of re-entry friction and the ground far below, rushing up to meet him at phenomenal speed.

Allen sighed and tilted his head to the side, trying to relive some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders. Despite all the latest technology, if the OHEV had come in on an angle just one degree off course, it would have burned up on the way down through the atmosphere. Now that they were actually within the planets atmosphere, the chance of dying a horrible - but quick - death had dropped considerably. There was, however, still a chance that the OHEVs computer system would miscalculate and blow the air brakes and parachutes to early, in which case they would break off of the pod and the unfortunate individual contained within would hit the ground at just over a hundred metres per second, an impact that no inertial dampening system known to man could protect against.

Of course, there was also the chance the brakes and parachutes would deploy too late, in which case the person inside the pod would probably survive but would be in such a bad condition that there would be no way to carry on with the mission. All in all, the 'hard drop' was probably the hardest part of any mission - the part where you had no control as to whether you live or die. You just had to trust in the computer programming to get it right and pray to whatever deities you may believe in.

_Please, let this go right. Let this whole mission go off without a hitch. No hostile locals, no alien bastards trying to kill us, non of that. Just let this one be a cakewalk, so we can get the info and leave_, Allen spoke to himself, eyes closed and face screwed up as he waited for the jolt that would determine whether he made it to the ground safely or ended up crushed to a fine paste within his pod.

Even though he had been waiting for it, the jolt came suddenly, knocking the air out of his lungs and jolting his head forward. Less than an inch from the view screen his head snapped back, the helmet banging against the headrest. A few moments later, just as he was starting to recover, another bone-jarring jolt snapped his head forward again, and a tremendously loud thud echoed in his ears.

"Landing successful," the pre programmed computer voice filtered of his OHEV filtered out over the small speakers set into his headrest, "have a pleasant day."

_Somebody's idea of a sick joke, I'll bet_, Allen thought, as he groaned and raised his head groggily. He shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of the dull, throbbing headache that had suddenly appeared behind his eyes, then set about unstrapping himself from his seat. He grabbed his rifle, unclipping it from the rack, then hit the switch that would blow the explosive bolts out from the door, allowing him to exit.

Immediately, the door blew off of its hinges, revealing a lush green forest some fifty metres away, and the grassy field in which he had landed. Squinting slightly, he stepped out from the pod and scanned his surroundings. The clearing was surrounded on all sides by thick forestation, although he noted what appeared to be a well used pathway roughly forty metres to the West. Twenty metres to his right, a the door blew off of another pod, and Private Shehadi stumbled out, a loud groan escaping his lips.

"Inertial dampeners my ass!," he shouted, straightening up and turning back towards the pod and reaching in. When his hand came back into view, it was clutching an assault rifle.

"I remember my first drop in one of these things. They said we wouldn't feel a thing, thanks to the latest tech. Well, that was ten god damn years ago, and it hurts just as much now as it did then," Shehadi continued ranting, sweeping his rifle back and forth across the clearing.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk to much, Shehadi?," Corporal Alexander spoke as he exited his own pod a further twenty metres behind the Sergeant Major and the Private, his own weapon making a sweep of the East side of the clearing. Allen turned to look back at the stationary pod that contained Weber, and frowned beneath the helmets faceplate as the door remained firmly in place.

"Alexander, check on Weber," he ordered, before returning his attention the gun sights. Alexander nodded once, then turned and started heading for Weber's OHEV, making sure to stay clear of the door should Weber activate the explosives to blow it out. He didn't feel like being crushed to death by a 160 kilogram door moving at 400 feet per second.

Alexander rapped his armoured gauntlet against the side of the OHEV, then accessed Weber's personal comm. channel.

"Hey Weber, you alright in there?," he asked loudly over the COM link. When he received no reply, he knocked against the hull of the pod harder, then repeated his question.

_Well, shit. He must have hit too hard_, Alexander thought. He sighed, then went around to the back of the pod, taking out his eight inch Kevlar/titanium knife as he went.

"Hey Sarge," he said over the squad channel, "looks like Weber took a knock to the skull, I think he's out cold. I'm going to hit the emergency switch, you guys might want to come over here."

"Roger that, we're ready when you are," Allen replied, walking backwards toward Webers drop pod. Something about the surrounding woods gave off a bad vibe, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was about it that made his skin crawl beneath his stealth suit.

Alexander nodded to himself, then set about unscrewing a small panel on the back of Webers OHEV with his combat knife. After he had taken out the four screws holding the panel in place, he shimmied his knife underneath the seal and used it as a lever to lift it off. With the panel off, he again used the knife, this time the hilt, to break the protective glass casing that covered a small red button with the words 'Emergency Door Release' written in bold lettering above it. With a quick press of the button, a muffled boom sounded out from the front of the pod and the door flew ten metres away, gouging out a decent chunk of grass and dirt from the ground when it landed.

As the Corporal came around the other side of the pod, he found Private Shehadi carefully pulling Weber from his harness within the disposable landing craft. Sergeant Major Allen stood off to the left a little bit, his rifle shouldered and sweeping back and forth across the clearing, ever watchful for danger.

"How is he, Shehadi?," Allen asked, his helmeted face turning to look back at the three other men for a split second, before returning to his rifle sights. Shehadi unclipped Webers helmet, then checked his vitals and shone a small flashlight into the other Privates eyes.

"Looks like a minor concussion, sir. Give him a few minutes and he should come around. He ought to be combat capable but he'll have one hell of a headache," he answered before reaching into Webers pod and unclipping the other mans assault rifle and grabbing his knapsack, which contained spare ammo, medical supplies and rations.

"Alright, stay with him Shehadi. Alexander, you and I'll get those doors into a pile, then I want you to plant some C12 on them," Allen ordered. After receiving affirmatives from the other two men, he and Alexander turned and started heading for the nearest two doors. Allen leant over on of the doors and, with a slight grunt, lifted the 160 kilogram lump of composite alloys.

With only a little bit of effort, Allen turned and began carrying the door back to where Alexander was carrying his. With a clatter of metal on metal, the two men dropped the doors on the ground, then turned back to repeat the action with the other two doors

"Hey, boss," Shehadi's voice came over the COM link as Allen dropped the other door, Alexander a moment behind. Although they were all within normal talking distance to each other, standard procedure for Covert Ops was to always talk to each other through a secure COM link. After all, you never knew who was listening.

"Yeah?"

"Sleeping Beauty's awake," Shehadi answered, standing from his crouching position. As he did, Weber sat up, groaning, and reached for his helmet, which was sitting on the ground beside him.

"The mission over already?," Weber asked, clipping on his helmet and pulling himself unsteadily to his feet. He looked around the clearing slowly, before turning back to Shehadi and holding out his hands.

"Nah, hasn't even started yet. You'd know that if you hadn't napped through the landing," Shehadi replied, handing over the other mans assault rifle and knapsack.

"If you're ready to go, Weber, then set the self-destruct on your OHEV for three minutes, and let's get moving," Allen ordered, before taking his suggestion and heading for his own pod. After a few seconds, the others followed suit, with Alexander setting the timer on the block of C12 High Explosive on top of the doors.

A few short moments later, the four of them had regrouped at the edge of the forest, and after a brief discussion as to who had the point position, they set off, Shehadi twenty metres ahead of the rest, not suspecting that they were being watched by hungry eyes.

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**March 8****th****, 2187**

**Orbit of Planet Designated P3Y-737**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

The _Magnus_ had taken up a geosynchronous orbit above the small village shortly after launching the four Spectres on their mission, and had since launched a dozen Recon Drones, setting up a sensor perimeter two parsecs in a spherical circumference. Given that an Earth or Tau warship generally took about an hour to travel a parsec at top speed (which would cause the hyper drive to begin to overheat), and assuming that the enemy ships were just as fast but had better quality engines, that gave the _Magnus_ roughly a two hour window with which to escape.

It was a valid assumption that the enemy ships would have better quality hyper drives, considering that both their shield and weapon technology seemed to be of higher quality than human ships. The only reason a human ship had greater damage output than the enemy did was because they were much more heavily armed and used many different types of weapons, where as the enemy had a smaller number of turrets, and relied entirely on what appeared to be some kind of advanced plasma cannon.

Deep within the bowels of the 850 metre long cruiser sat Commander Albert Burrows, going over the after action reports of the battle that had occurred at Outpost 31, looking for anything he could use should he be forced to fight against enemy ships. What he had read so far had been disheartening, to say the least.

It appeared as though the average ship, assumed to be a light cruiser or heavy destroyer because of its size, was about an even match for a _Percheron_-class light cruiser, a ship that was larger and more heavily armoured than the _Magnus_. The only advantage the SOCOM cruiser had was that it was more heavily armed than a _Percheron_, and the Ion Cannon was a devastating weapon that was set to be fitted to next generation battleships.

It got worse after that, as the next ship class identified looked almost exactly the same as the light cruiser analogues. The only difference really, was that it was perhaps another fifty metres in diameter, the pyramidal design with the star shaped outer hull remained exactly the same. Unfortunately, this ship class had been witnessed surviving a battlecruiser broadside, and its weapons had proven much more potent, making the ship an undisputed heavy cruiser in the eyes of the Office of Naval Intelligence.

The only other ship class that had been identified, aside from the vessels assumed to be gunboats, was assumed to be some kind of command cruiser or battleship. Its exact capabilities were unknown, although its shields had apparently taken as many as three battleship broadsides to bring down. After that, though, the other ships had formed a protective barrier between the command ship and it had taken only light fire for the remainder of the battle.

All in all, if the _Magnus_ had to face off against anything more than one or two of the light cruiser analogues, Burrows would have no choice but to run, something he would never do if he still had people trapped on the planet.

Burrows sighed as he realized that if it came down to a fight, the chances of any human leaving this system alive were slim to none.

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**March 9****th****, 2187**

**Goa'uld Battlefleet Staging Area**

**12 Parsecs from Tau/Human Colony **_**Eden Prime**_

After several days of Al'kesh scouting missions, the System Lords had finally discovered what appeared to be a colony of the new humans and their alien allies. It had been decided that Apophis would lead this fleet, the largest gathering of Goa'uld ships in one place since the Wraith invasion 150 years ago. It would be more than enough to crush the defences orbiting the world they had targeted, and once that was done Apophis would have bombarded the planet from orbit.

Instead, Anubis had ordered him to land Jaffa and take prisoners. Apophis, like the other System Lords, seethed under Anubis' rule, but since Anubis had 'inherited' the fleets and armies of both Sokar and Yu after he had killed them when last the Goa'uld had tried to fight back, no one had the strength to fight him. And even if the System Lords could set aside their differences to deal with Anubis, and they actually succeeded in overthrowing him, it would sap their collective strength to the point where it would be impossible to survive against attacks from the new humans, or from each other, for that matter.

With the arrival of eight more standard Ha'tak and two upgraded Ha'tak, Apophis' fleet was complete. Now all that remained to do before departing was to get the ships into an attack formation. The fleet would no doubt be underway within the before the day was through.

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**March 9****th****, 2187**

**Wooded area just outside of Native Settlement on planet designated P3Y-737**

**Spectre Team 19, Sergeant Major James Allen commanding**

It was mid morning now, and after spending the night in the woods, Allen had finally put his finger on just what had been bugging him about them: it was the animals. Or rather, the lack of animals. Or insects. The only things that had been making any noise in the woods ha been the wind blowing through the trees and the Spectres themselves.

Even for veteran commandoes like Allen, Shehadi, Weber and Alexander, it had been a 'profoundly creepy' experience, to quote Shehadi. Also, to the teams annoyance, the wall surrounding the village was about twenty feet high, much to high to see over and they hadn't wanted to risk discovery too soon by attempting to climb a tree at the edge of the forest for a better view.

So now Allen and Shehadi sat, crouch and under the invisible shroud of the ACSIS, at the edge of the woods, forty or so metres from the North gate. The clearing around the village was fairly consistent, always roughly forty to forty-five metres from the wall, and each side of the wall had a single gate, facing North, South, East and West respectively. And as far as the Spectres could tell, the wall had been made fairly recently, with the trees that had been cleared out serving as the logs for the wall itself.

The plan was to deactivate the ACSIS while still under the cover of the underbrush, then Allen would step out and cautiously approach, covered by Shehadi's M66TR Designated Marksman's Rifle at all times, and attempt to make peaceful contact with the locals.

"Okay," Allen spoke, standing from his crouching position beside Shehadi, "here goes nothing. Keep me covered, you got that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Don't get your panties in a bunch, old man," the Private answered, raising the rifle to his shoulder and leaning his head down slightly to see through the digital scope. He could have done with his helmets built in Picture-In-Picture system, linked wirelessly to the scope, but he preferred to do things the old fashioned way.

The Sergeant Major frowned behind the faceplate, then shook his head. He deactivated the ACSIS and removed his helmet, then activated the magnetic strip on his back plate and attached his rifle to it. Taking in a deep breath, Allen stepped out from the cover of the bushes and onto the path that lead to the gate.

He walked slowly, hoping that whoever was watching would take it as a sign of peaceful intentions, his head swivelling slowly from side to side, ever watchful for any possible danger. But none presented itself. As he got within twenty metres of the gate, he heard a shout from the other side of the wall, and instantly stopped moving.

He watched as the large gate slowly swung inward on its hinges, revealing three human looking people standing on the other side, one woman and two men. They approached him like they hadn't a care in the world, wide, friendly smiles on their faces. They came within about five feet of Allen, still smiling, and what next shocked the Spectre thoroughly.

"Good day to you, traveller. From where do you hail?," the woman asked, in plain English.

_Holy shit!_

"Ah, good day to you folks too," Allen returned the greeting, "I'm…ah, not from around here."

_Real smooth, jackass_, he thought to himself derisively.

The woman, probably middle aged and with a faded scar above her right eye, smiled wider at him.

"If you do not wish to tell us, that is your decision to make. You are not our first visitor from the stars," she said kindly, glancing at the man standing to her left. It took Allen a moment to realise that he was the tallest of them all, something that he, at five feet eleven inches tall, was not used to. Average height for a human male nowadays was six feet one inch. It also occurred to him that he was physically much larger, his muscles more well toned, an indication that these people may have been suffering from malnutrition.

"You've had others come here before, then?," he asked aloud.

"Yes," she answered simply. "Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Jorrah, and this is Mikel and Myrn," she introduced herself, then the man on the left and finally the man on the right.

Allen shook hands with all three as he introduced himself.

"I'm Sergeant Major James Allen, UNSC Special Forces, but you guys can call me James," he said, the surrealism of his situation not lost on him. First Contact with another human civilization, albeit a primitive one, and not only did they speak English, they also shook hands as a greeting! It was incredible, to say the least.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, James," Jorrah replied, a looked of mild bemusement on her face.

"You and your friends are welcome to stay and rest here as long as you need, but I must insist that you not wander beyond the wall after dark, it is not safe," Mikel added.

"How did you know there were others with me?," Allen asked, suspicious, "and what makes the woods unsafe at night?"

"I just assumed that you did not come alone," the shorter man answered, "and woods are unsafe all the time, its just that during the day you can see the beasts coming for you."

"We spent the night in the woods last night, and we didn't come across any 'beasts'," Allen said, trying to contain his scepticism, after all, the wall was there for a reason.

"Then you were fortunate. Ever since the beasts appeared several months ago, we have been forced to cower behind these walls. Only the very brave or very foolish venture out alone and unarmed," Myrn spoke, his own eyes raking across the woods behind Allen.

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"Hey, Carson," Weber muttered over the COM link as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

"What?," came the Corporals grunted reply. They had been sitting in a pair of trees spaced about fifteen metres apart for the last hour, constantly watching for danger.

"I've got this problem that's really been annoying me lately, and I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Fine. What is it?," Alexander sighed. Weber cleared his throat and shifted position again before speaking.

"Well, if a cat always lands on its feet, and toast always lands buttered side up, what would happen if you buttered a cats back?," he finally asked, not even a hint of humour in his voice.

"God damn it, Jonah, what did I tell you about asking stupid fucking questions?," Alexander shouted back over the COM link, although to an outside observer it seemed as though both men were totally silent.

"Aw, come on man, you can't tell me you don't wonder about these things. I mean -."

"Shut up," Alexander hissed back, raising his rifle to his shoulder.

"Alright, I'm sorry, but -."

"Listen! Don't you hear that?"

Weber instantly shut up and raised his own rifle, scanning the surrounding woods, his ears straining to hear whatever it was that had his friend spooked After several seconds of total silence, Weber sighed and lowered his weapon.

"Man, I know these woods are kind of creepy, but you can't let it get to you," Weber said, relaxing back into a comfortable position on his branch.

"I know I heard something. You just gotta listen," Alexander replied. Weber just nodded quietly to himself, and returned to his duty of watching the woods for any signs of movement. After another moment or two of silence, Weber suddenly sat up straight and his head whipped around as an unfamiliar sound reached his ears.

There was a crack of twigs snapping underfoot, followed shortly after by a low, gurgling sound that sounded suspiciously like the growl of a Sand Wolf, a vicious wolf-like predator found on Eridani Two, the neighbouring planet to the fortress-world Bastion.

"Tell me you heard that," Alexanders voice came back over the COM link. Weber nodded too himself as he raised his weapon again, then realised that Alexander couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I heard it alright," Weber answered, eyes wide as he looked around himself, trying to figure out where the noise had come from. With another gurgle, a large animal that looked like a mutated, partially skinned dog stepped out from behind a tree less than ten metres away, enormous teeth bared in a snarl, its eyes filled with murderous intent.

"I don't know what the hell that thing is, but Christfuck it looks pissed!," Weber heard Alexander speak. Weber kept his eyes trained on the animal, unnerved by the fact that it seemed to see straight through the ACSIS. He didn't know how, but that thing _knew_ he was there.

_Shit!_, Weber thought, as the animal, clearly a carnivore, charged his tree, colliding with the thick trunk with bone shattering force. Already slightly unbalanced by the angle at which he had had to sit in order to see the animal in the first place, Weber lost his grip on the branch and plummeted twenty five feet to the forest floor below, his rifle flying from his hands and landing a good ten feet away.

Weber hit the ground hard, his ACSIS failing with an electric spark, but recovered quickly and fumbled with his sidearm. He stared straight ahead at the creature as it turned to face him, loosing another of its terrifying growls, before charging him again. With a colourful string of expletives, Weber finally freed his Martin-Kallum PP-29 Plasma Pistol and managed to fire three shots of sickly green super heated plasma at the animal.

One went wide, striking the tree Weber had been hiding in, the other two struck the animal in the face, blinding it in one of its eyes and enraging it even further.

With a bone-jarring thud, the animal collided with Webers chest and sent him falling to the ground, crushed under the creatures immense weight. He raised one arm to fend of the snapping jaws, while the other hand fumbled for his combat knife.

The animal snapped down with tremendous force on Webers forearm, the two inch teeth puncturing the armoured greave, which was designed to stop rail gun rounds, with ridiculous ease, digging into the human flesh it had been protecting. With a cry of pain, Weber swung his other hand around in a vicious haymaker that connected with the animals throat. Immediately, it let go of Webers arm and started gagging, giving the man some breathing space.

He scrabbled backwards quickly, trying to put some distance between himself and his assailant, when he heard the muffled coughing sound of a ballistic projectile weapon firing full auto over the creatures gagging, and the animals side erupted in an explosion of blood and gore. Alexander emptied all sixty rounds into the animals side, and as the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, the thing started to rise up a again, emitting another gurgling growl.

With a loud cry of rage and pain, Weber raced forward and seized the animals head, wrenching it to the side with all his considerable strength, once, twice, and finally, on the third try, a series of loud pops echoed over the creatures struggles and it finally lay still. Panting heavily, high on adrenalin, Weber stood up and stumbled backwards, dropping on his backside a few metres away from the now-dead predator, Alexander joining him after a moment.

Weber stared at the animal in wonder. Despite the various genetic, cybernetic and nanotech enhancements he had received since joining the Spectres, he had had to dig deep into his energy reserves to summon the strength needed to finally kill it.

"You alright, Jonah?," Alexander finally asked, ejecting the spent mag and fishing a fresh one out of his combat harness.

"Yeah. I guess we know why there aren't any animals in these woods, huh?," the other man answered, getting control of his breathing and standing up.

"Grab your gear, I'll call this in with the Sarge," Alexander said, standing and moving closer to inspect the animal.

_The woods are empty my arse. I wonder how many more of these things there are_.

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**March 8****th****, 2187**

**Orbit of Planet Designated P3Y-737**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

"Sir, we have a confirmed ping from the Recon Drones, looks like two enemy cruiser headed in our direction," Siobhan informed Commander Burrows. Burrows frowned and sighed.

"ETA?," he asked.

"Half an hour, maybe less."

"Half an hour! How did they get in so close?," Burrows demanded, as he reached for his desk COM link.

"I assume the drones sensors must have missed them somehow, because they are currently less than 15 trillion kilometres away and closing fast," Siobhan answered.

"Sound general quarters, all crew to battle stations, and send a dropship to pick up the team on the surface," Burrows ordered, "I'd rather not get caught in a fight if we can avoid it, so double time it if you will, Siobhan."

"Aye, sir."

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**On The Surface**

After receiving Alexanders report on his and Webers run in with the predatory animal in the woods, Allen had ordered them to come to the village and meet Shehadi at the North gate. Now, though, he was sitting in some kind of inn or tavern, speaking with Jorrah about the aliens that had attacked Outpost 31. What he had learned thus far had not been very reassuring, to say the least.

Sentient, parasitic snakes that took over a human host, took slaves, and were egotistical in the extreme, believing themselves to be Gods and expecting to be worshipped as such. The only good news was that there was apparently an incredibly powerful alien race that had taken this planet and twenty seven others under their protection, but even that had a sour note.

"We have not seen or heard from our protectors in many months, and since their disappearance the beasts in the woods have been terrorising us, and many people have witnessed the Gate To The Heavens opening, but nothing come out," Jorrah concluded their conversation. Allen shifted in his seat slightly, then grabbed his helmet from the table they were sitting at, making sure the mission camera had recorded everything.

"Can you take me to the Gate?," Allen asked. Jorrah smiled and nodded, standing up and gesturing for Allen to follow her. He clipped his helmet back on and began following her. On the way to the North gate, they had to step around a group of children playing some obscure puzzle game involving sticks and stones that reminded Allen of the ancient Snakes and Ladders board game.

As they neared the gate, Allen spotted the dark forms of his battle suited team-mates standing around the entryway.

"Alright guys, on me," Allen ordered, and immediately the three other men straightened up and turned to follow their leader through the now open gate, weapons at the ready. Ever since the attack earlier, the whole team had been on edge and constantly on the lookout for more of the creatures, more vigilant than ever after seeing the puncture marks on Webers armoured greave.

"Where we headed, Sarge?," Alexander asked as he walked quickly to keep up with the surprisingly fast moving Jorrah.

"Something called the 'Gate To The Heavens', whatever that is. I was told that its been opening apparently by itself, and nothing has been coming out of it," the older man answered, shooting a glance at Jorrah. She seemed a little unnerved, and Allen wasn't sure if it was the fact that they were going into predator-infested woods or that it was obvious the Spectres were communicating but they weren't making any sound that had her looking so anxious.

The trek through the woods was, thankfully, very short. They had probably only covered about two hundred metres when the came upon a clearing in the forestation about twenty metres in diameter. In the centre of the clearing, atop a pedestal, sat a large metallic ring of some kind, covered in runes and standing upright. A few metres to the right of the ring was an odd looking device, also covered in runes and with a large red crystal like object in the centre of its circular top.

"This is the Gate," Allen asked, eyebrow quirked sceptically. It certainly didn't look like any gat he had seen before, mainly because through the three metre hole in the centre of the ring he could see nothing but more forest.

"Yes, this is it," Jorrah answered, eyes flicking back and forth across the clearing. Sensing her growing anxiety, Allen motioned for the others to take up a defensive perimeter around the clearing whilst he examined the so-called 'gate'. As he stepped closer to get a better look, however, his COM link crackled to life and Commander Burrows' voice came to him from the _Magnus_.

"Spectre One, this is _Magnus_ Actual, come in please."

"Here, sir," Allen answered immediately, still eying the 'gate'. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed awfully familiar somehow, like he'd seen it somewhere before.

"Spectre One, prep your team for immediate dust-off. We have hostile ships inbound and we need to leave before they arrive. Repeat, prep for immediate dust-off," Burrows stated, the slightest hint of urgency in his voice.

"Roger that, sir. We got some intel on the enemy, sending Siobhan the data packet now," Allen replied, following standard procedure in case the team got left behind. This way, the effort taken to gather the intel would not go to waste.

"Understood, Actual, out."

"Alright guys, prep for dust-off. We've got enemy forces incoming," Allen addressed the team. Behind him though, a sound not unlike stone grinding against stone echoed around the clearing. Allen turned around, just in time for the 'gate's interior to erupt, a roiling water like substance reaching out several metres, engulfing a screaming Jorrah, before settling back into a standing pool, leaving no trace of the woman.

"Jesus Christ! Did you see that?," Shehadi shouted over the COM link.

"No, man we're fucking blind! Of course we saw it!," Weber shouted back. Allen suddenly had a very bad feeling, and yelled a command back to the others as he started heading to the edge of the clearing.

"Defensive positions," the Sergeant Major cried out, as behind him armoured men carrying the same staff weapons as seen onboard the TRN Battleship _Pious Inquisitor_ five days earlier, minus the helmets, charged out of the standing pool. Golden bolts of energy erupted from the heads of the staff weapons, the poorly aimed fire mostly hitting the trees or ground near the Spectres.

Allen's rifle coughed as he squeezed the trigger, the armour-piercing rounds cutting down two of the invading Jaffa. He ducked back behind a tree as more fire was directed at him.

"_Magnus_ Actual, this is Spectre One, come in! _Magnus_ Actual, come in," he shouted into his COM link, blind firing his assault rifle around the side of the tree, the thick trunk at his back shuddering under dozens of impacts.

"Spectre One, this is _Magnus _Actual, what's the situation?," Siobhan's voice came back over the sound of energy fire.

"We have enemy forces firing at us, method of insertion unknown, sending the updated data packet now," Allen replied, sending the update to Siobhan as promised. "We are seriously outnumbered and outgunned here, send evac double time!"

"Understood, dropship inbound, ETA is seven minutes."

"Copy that, we'll make a fighting retreat back to our original LZ, pick us up there. Spectre One, out," Allen said, not particularly pleased with having to stay on this world for another seven minutes - assuming they survived that long.

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**In Orbit**

In orbit, the _Magnus_ was having problems of its own. The two ships that had been detected by the Recon Drones had arrive nearly nine minutes sooner than expected, and were currently a little over forty million kilometres away and closing at fifty thousand kilometres per second.

The _Magnus_ turned so that the bow was facing the new arrivals, and for several seconds nothing happened as the two ships continued to close in. Then, finally, sixteen nuclear warheads were launched from the forward missile bays, eight for each ship. The missiles, guided by Siobhan, began a series of complex manoeuvres designed to fool an enemies point defences. Travelling at eighty-five thousand KP/S, the warheads quickly reached the enemy ships.

In a cloud of plasma fire and self sacrificing enemy fighters, five missiles were torn from the sky, one of them destroying nearly a third of the enemy fighter compliment. The others unleashed their nuclear fury on the shields of both capital ships, causing a bright golden glow to fade in and out of existence as the shields absorbed and deflected the massive energies of eleven 600 megaton explosions.

The two ships continued on through the expanding, and rapidly extinguishing, nuclear fire, seemingly unfazed. As the range continued to close, the enemy ships finally opened fire, golden plasma bolts battering against the stealth cruisers shields.

The cruiser responded as it tried to move away from its assailants, rail guns and laser cannons spitting fire at them.

The closest enemy ships shields failed under a hail of laser cannon bolts, and a rail gun volley followed, tearing one of the six points on the ships outer hull off. The plasma fire intensified, and the _Magnus_' shields flickered bright silver as the enemy fighters closed the distance, energy fire erupting from their cannons. The _Magnus_' point defence, the venerable Laser Net CIWS, returned fire, tearing the attacking fighters down in waves.

Again the _Magnus_ fired, laser fire again puncturing the damaged enemy ships partially recharged shields, and another volley of rail gun rounds cored deep into the ships pyramid shaped inner hull, even as the _Magnus_' own shield failed under the strain.

Plasma fire immediately started pelting the ships hull, and several hull breaches along the port side of the vessel appeared. Finally, though, as the distance closed to just under a thousand kilometres, a two white beams of energy erupted from a point on the human ships dorsal hull, spearing into the damaged enemy vessel and carving a deep gash in its hull.

Normally, it wouldn't have been a killing shot, but thanks to the unique radiation of Ion-based weaponry, anyone within fifty metres of where the weapon had fired would die from intense radiation poisoning within minutes. If the ship didn't have appropriate radiation shielding - like the _Magnus_' Titanium/Tritium/Tungsten/Thorium composite hull plating - then the entire crew would be dead very soon.

The other ship continued pummelling the stealth cruiser, receiving only light laser or rail gun fire in return. With the _Magnus_' entire fighter group escorting the _Firebird_-class dropship to its rendezvous with the Special Forces team on the planet, the ship was a more vulnerable to suicidal enemy fighters.

The Laser Net CIWS was churning out thousands of laser pulses in intersecting firing arcs, but no matter how good the point defences, it was inevitable that some fighters would get through.

Even as plasma bolts melted through the armour plating on the cruisers starboard side, a trio of enemy fighters slammed into the already damaged hull of the port side, shearing off a laser cannon battery and causing an explosive decompression of the inner hull, ejecting crew and equipment out into the void.

The _Magnus_ fired an under strength volley of nuclear missiles, half of its launching bays having been torn off or melted over during the brief battle. Of the seven missiles launched, only two made it through the enemy fighters and point defences, but it was enough. With a combined explosive force of one point two gigatons, the warheads were just enough to finally overwhelm the Ha'tak's shields, battering them down in nuclear fire.

A plasma bolt impacted dangerously close to the _Magnus_' bridge, tearing of a rail gun and several Laser Net cannons. The stealth cruiser responded, finally able to get a good arc of fire on the other ship, and sent dozens of bright red laser bolts and rail gun rounds into the pyramid shaped hull of its aggressor, cleaving a modest chunk of armour away.

The Ha'tak fired another round of plasma bolts, gouging a hole in the _Magnus_' side barely a hundred meters from the main engines. Again, the _Magnus_ responded, this time with the dual barrelled Ion Cannon, shearing off the top of the Ha'tak's pyramid. The Ha'tak finally ceased moving, and no answering fire came from it. The _Magnus_, now grievously wounded, struggled back to its place in orbit of the planet, battle having taken it more than five hundred thousand kilometres from the worlds gravity well.

Although the exterior of the _Magnus_ appeared to regain some of its peaceful aura from before the battle, inside was another story altogether.

"Siobhan, give me a status report," Commander Burrows sighed, sitting back in his command chair after having been thrust out of it during the fight. There was a thin haze of smoke permeating the air, and a trickle of blood ran down his forehead into his eyes, obscuring his vision.

"Sir," Siobhan's avatar flickered into view on the holo tank, her image fractured by a spider web of cracks in the projecting crystal. "I'm registering approximately twenty three hull breaches all over the vessel, nine of them large enough for a full grown human to fit through. An unknown number of stress fractures, possibly from kamikaze fighter impacts, are also detectable. Two shield emitters are down and there are power fluctuations in the shield generator."

"What about our weapons and engines?"

"Five rail guns and nine laser cannons are out of commission, four of our forward missile bays have been destroyed, five have been melted shut from molten hull plating hardening over them. Our sub-light drives are operating at forty three percent optimal efficiency, and anomalous readings in the hyper drive indicate we may only be able to jump thirty or forty light years at a time before temperature or fluctuating power levels will force us to shut them down," Siobhan answered. "The Ion Cannon is fully operational, however I advise against using it until we've restored at least ninety percent hull integrity."

Burrows closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before asking his next question.

"Crew casualties?"

Siobhan shook her head. "I estimate seventeen dead and twenty six wounded, nine critically."

"Any good news?," the Commander sighed, watching as Siobhan's head cocked to the side.

"Sergeant Major Allen's extraction should be arriving momentarily.

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**On The Surface**

For the commander of the Jaffa warriors invading this world through the Chappa'i, this was proving to be quite a thrill. It had been nearly fifty years since last he had had the pleasure of hunting down such resilient and resourceful foes. The four armoured humans were armed with primitive -yet deadly - weapons, and had thus far killed perhaps a dozen of his Jaffa.

They were using an unusual but effective method of escape - two of them would stand there ground and engage his Jaffa, the other twp would run thirty or so metres away, stop, and engage his Jaffa while the first two repeated the motions of the second. Had the commander known anything about human tactics, he would have know this was called 'leap frogging'.

The commander ordered his minions to charge forward, and instantly three were cut down in a shower of blood and sparks as the projectiles their enemy fired bounced off where they hit at oblique angles. Up ahead, the commander could see a large clearing in the wood, barely a hundred metres behind the enemy. He smiled as he realised that once they reached the edge of that clearing, they would either have to stand their ground to keep the benefit of cover the woods provided, or try and run across the clearing and risk being cut down as they ran.

Either way, when they reached that clearing, it would be that much easier to eliminate the only obstacle between his God, Baal, and his objective, the vast Trinium deposits of this world, abandoned by its protectors, the Asgard.

His smile grew wider, as when the enemy reached the edge of the clearing, they continued running straight ahead. Easy targets.

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_Shit, shit, shit, shit!_ Allen screamed in his mind as he and the others charged out into the clearing they had landed in the previous day, the remains of their OHEVs still sitting where they had left them.

Beside him, Shehadi stumbled forward, just barely keeping his footing, and Allen noticed that his back armour plate was glowing red hot from a plasma blast. The ground seemed to churn up around them, wisps of smoke and clods of dirt filling the air as more and more fire was directed at them.

The twilight hours had set in now, the sky glowing a pink-orange colour as the suns rays slowly disappeared over the horizon. Allen didn't have time to admire the natural beauty, however, and as the team reached the remains of their OHEVs, they skidded to a halt and leapt behind the twisted hulks of burnt out metal, using them as cover.

"Any time, now, Echo 419!," Weber shouted into his COM link, and moments later a reassuringly familiar feminine voice replied.

"Don't worry guys, ETA right now. Got a lotta heat signatures at the East tree line, I take those are the boys that have been giving you a hard time," Carolyn "Hocus Pocus" Michaels, AKA Echo 419, said over the channel.

"Affirmative that, Hocus, sure would appreciate it if you gave them a spanking," Allen responded, a smile of relief crossing his face.

"Copy that, sweet thing, maybe when we get back to the _Magnus_, I can give you some of the same treatment."

As one, the other three men on Allen's team turned their faceplates to look at him, shocked expressions hidden by the silver reflective coating.

"Sarge…?," Weber gasped. Allen chose to ignore them as best he could. He responded the female pilot even as the Firebird dropship and its escorting _Scorpion_-class Interceptors came into view on the West horizon.

"Uh, Hocus," Allen started, ducking a little lower as more plasma fire impacted his hiding place, and Weber and Alexander fired their rifles in return, "this is an _open_ channel."

The only response he got was a chuckle and a hail of high calibre rail gun rounds flying into the tree line from the dropships wing mounted rotary rail guns, spitting out an impressive 13,000 rounds per minute, and laser cannon fighter from the two Interceptors still with Hocus, the other six circling high over head.

From his position of cover, Allen could clearly see dozens of armoured figures being torn apart under the hail of gun fire. Hocus circled back around, coming in hard and fast, troop bay open, and stopped just a few metres form the Spectres. The four men quickly scrambled aboard, making haste despite the fact that there was virtually no fire being directed at them anymore. The two Interceptors made another pass at the tree line, before forming up with Hocus again as she took the Firebird vertical, headed straight to orbit with no fancy flying, for once.

It would seem as though, for now, Spectre Team 19 was safe and sound.

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**March 10****th****, 2187**

**Eden Hyperspace Monitoring Station**

**2 parsecs from Eden Prime**

The automated monitoring station logged every single hyperspace disturbance, o matter how small or how large, every hour on the hour unless it detected unauthorized ships on an inbound vector to the system. So, when its sensors suddenly picked up hundreds of hyperspace contacts headed in Eden Prime's general direction, the computer immediately made the decision that this was an invasion force, and the Eden Defence Grid and Sector Fleet were both warned of the incoming force within moments of detection.

Unfortunately for Vice-Admiral Alan Rickman, the early warning was nowhere near early enough. The invasion force had been detected three parsecs from the station, which gave him five hours, give or take, to prepare his defence. However, against a fleet that size, the modest defences of Eden Prime would likely be overwhelmed in record time. The only thing that could possibly make a successful defence was the Sector Fleet, which was eleven hours away at the Camden Fleet Yards, resupplying for an extended patrol of their sector.

That meant that Rickman's rag-tag force of cruisers and destroyers, and the Orbital Defence Grid, was going to have to hold back an enemy force that outnumbered them by a good six-to-one for six hours. If they couldn't, then the one hundred and forty million colonists on Eden Prime would be at the enemies mercy.

In any case, Rickman had a feeling this was going to be either the longest day of his life, or the shortest.

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**March 10****th****, 2187**

**Orbit of Planet Designated P3Y-737**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

After undergoing stop-gap repairs for the better part of a day, the _Magnus _was finally ready to depart. As a precaution, a Communication Drone had been sent to Sierra ahead of the cruiser. The ship was far from fully operational, and despite the best efforts of the crew and the aid of the Nano-Fabricators, an internal factory that use nanites to recreate damage hull plating and rail guns, the least complex of the _Magnus_' weapons systems, there was still a chance that the hyper drive would simply burn out and they would be stuck in-system indefinitely, or that the hull would not hold up under the extra pressure of hyperspace travel.

"We're good to go, sir," Ensign Charles Bowman, at the Navigation console, informed his commander.

"The lets get out of this gravity well and get underway," Commander Burrows said with a nod of approval.

As the damaged cruiser moved into position for the jump, unknown to anyone onboard, a nuclear warhead that failed to detonate during the battle the previous day drifted just a few hundred metres in front of the vessel. With a bright flash, the vortex into the alternate dimension of hyperspace was ripped open in front of the _Magnus_, and as the ship was sucked in, it clipped the warhead, causing it to detonate just as the stealth ship entered hyperspace.

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A/N: Just so you know, a parsec is a measure of distance, not time, and is short for the term "**par**allax of one arc **sec**ond". It is equivalent to 30 trillion kilometres, or about 3.3 light years. Also, the speed of light is 299,792.458 kilometres per second, so anything below that is a viable sub-light speed for a ship to travel at.

A distance of one thousand parsecs (approximately 3262 light years) is referred to as a **kilo parsec **(kpc) and the Milky Way Galaxy is 30 kpc across, Earth being 8 kpc away from the Galactic Centre, and about 306 parsecs "deep".

Also, Thorium is another type of radioactive material found on Earth, believed to be more efficient than Plutonium or Uranium, and when inert, it makes an excellent radiation shield, although the scarcity of it means that lead or Depleted Uranium is most commonly used.

CIWS is an abbreviation of Close-in Weapons System, and Siobhan is pronounced Shuh-vawn.

In the next chapter, Lost In Space, we see how the battle at Eden Prime goes, find out just what happened to the _Magnus_, learn what the other Spectre teams got up to, the Tok'ra finally reveal themselves to the UNSC/TRN forces located in the Sierra system and the mystery behind the strange predators on P3Y-737 is revealed. Don't forget to review, and you should know the drill about flames by now, keep your criticisms constructive, folks.


	6. Lost In Space

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

**To Virusgod:** Thanks for the review. You're right, the story has been a little bit rushed thus far, but that's because I've been trying to quickly set the stage for the first part that involves a crossover, and also because I've realised that the war between the Human/Tau Alliance and the Goa'uld is going to be somewhat one-sided once the Allies team up with the Tok'ra and the Asgard, so I'm preparing for a crossover that'll give the Goa'uld some allies of their own. So, the pace should really start to even out in this chapter.

**To Ogi:** Sorry, the Magnus didn't go to the SG-verse, because it's already there. This is set in the same universe as SG, it's just an alternate history of it. Thanks for the review, though, it was a good idea but I'm afraid it won't fit in with this storyline.

A/N: Sorry for the longer than usual time between updates, but I recently had to drive interstate for my brothers wedding and as I don't have a laptop yet, I couldn't do any typing at all for about a week and a half.

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**March 10****th****, 2187**

**Approximately Three Minutes After Nuclear Detonation**

**Location Unknown**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

Battered and leaking atmosphere from several new breaches in her hull, the _Magnus_ drifted slowly and silently through the void, its sub-light Ion engines flickering a dull blue as they struggled to manipulate the cruisers motion.

As it continued its voyage, the _Magnus_' barely operational shields fended off dozens of small meteorites, the once proud stealth ship heading towards a distant asteroid field, tiny pieces of space junk and even debris from the cruisers own hull following in its wake.

Within the armoured belly of the ship, it was just as quiet as the outside, aside from the occasional spark of exposed circuitry and the automated alert system, a computerized female voice informing the mostly unconscious crew of severe damage and hull breaches. Even Siobhan was 'unconscious', her memory core having been jostled out of its housing in the ships main computer banks, effectively sealing her within the small crystal cube until a crewmember was able to replace her.

In the port hangar bay, dozens of crewmembers, Marines, technicians, engineers and pilots lay sprawled on the floor surrounding the Scorpion Interceptors and Firebird dropships, tools and equipment cluttered across the deck. The barracks were even worse off, the artificial gravity having failed and sending men and women and anything not bolted down tumbling unknowingly through the air.

On the bridge, Commander Burrows sat slumped in his command chair, the various consoles around the room unmanned by anything other than unconscious bodies, and, in the case of the Fire Control Console, a dead Lieutenant. Although everyone around him seemed somewhat at peace, Albert Burrows appeared to be in the midst of a dream, and for the first time in a long time, he was smiling.

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_Albert Burrows was standing in one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. As far as the eye could see, rolling hills covered in thick, lush grass and bright yellow daisies stretched off into the distance, the occasional large, shady Willow tree dotting the picturesque landscape._

_He walked slowly across the shallow valley he was in, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. The air was sweet with the scent of daisies, and the unmistakable taste of fresh, mid-morning air lingered in the back of his throat, making him smile even wider._

_It had been many months since last he had seen a place anywhere near as beautiful as this. As he walked, he held his hands out to his side slightly, running them gently over the top of the blades of long grass and flowery heads of the daises. As he walked, taking in the sights, scents and sounds, however, a new sound entered his range of hearing._

_A voice. A distinctly feminine voice, singing a children's lullaby that Burrows had not heard in years, since his now deceased wife had last sung it to his also deceased son, more than thirty five years ago._

"_Hush, little baby, don't say a word," he heard from behind him. He slowly turned around as the voice continued its melody._

"_Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird," the time it took to turn a simple one hundred eighty degrees to face the mysterious crooner seemed to stretch on into eternity._

"_If that mockingbird don't sing," finally, Albert was able to see the woman singing. She stood perhaps thirty feet away, and was a stunning beauty. Shoulder length platinum blond hair, deep blue eyes and wearing a red dress that afforded a view to a modest amount of cleavage and showed off her long legs._

"_Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring," she continued, a sultry smile slowly spreading across her face as she began to walk towards him._

"_Hello, Albert," she said as she got within ten feet of the Commander, whose duty uniform seemed to fade away into casual civilian wear, loose denim jeans and flannelette shirt._

"_Who are you?," Albert breathed, suspicion lacing his words. He was certain he had never met this woman before, yet she seemed quite familiar with him. _

"_Who I am is not important, Albert," she answered, standing just feet away from him. She reached out and gently placed her hand on his cheek. "You, on the other hand, may just be the most important human alive. You don't know it yet, Albert, but very soon you will become a symbol of hope for an entire civilization, and you will lead your lost brothers and sisters to the safety they have been praying for."_

_Albert furrowed his brow in a frown. "I don't understand what you're talking about. Tell me what's going on."_

"_I'm sorry, Albert, I can't do that. Soon though, you will understand," the woman answered, then stepped back from him a little and smile as a strange bleating noise filled the valley, somehow familiar to Albert._

"_It's time to go Albert," she said, "It's time to - _

"Wake up, sir," a masculine voice said, and Burrows felt a hand gently shoving his shoulder. Groaning, Burrows opened his eyes, the bleating sound he had heard in his dream revealing itself to be the depressurization alarm, letting the crew know that the ship was losing air.

"What happened? Did the hyper drive burn out?," Burrows asked the younger man, Lieutenant Lee Mercer from Navigation. The other man shook his head.

"I don't know sir, but our short range sensors are picking up a great deal of Gamma radiation all over the forward hull. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a nuclear detonation of some kind. Judging by the amount of radiation, possibly one of our ship-killers. That's about the best I can make of it without Siobhan, sir," Lieutenant Mercer answered, helping Burrows stand so he could survey his bridge.

"What happened to her?"

"Looks like her memory core was knocked loose somehow during the transition to hyperspace. I managed to wake a couple of technicians, they're down in the core room now. Until you woke up, sir, I was the most senior person aboard the ship," came the reply.

"The others?," Burrows queried, worry evident in his voice.

"Everyone on board was knock unconscious during the transition, sir. We also found a deckhand who was crushed to death by a drifting dolly loaded with extra armour plates when the gravity went out on the hangar deck," Mercer said, watching the Commander as he slowly nodded and took in the new information.

"Okay. All able-bodied personnel are to commence immediate repairs to the ship and all medical personnel are to start looking taking on the injured. We're going to have to make more comprehensive repairs than before, so I need the Nano-Fabricators online ASAP," Burrows ordered. Mercer nodded and head over to the PA system to relay his orders to the rest of the ship.

Burrows walked around the bridge, checking the status of the other people still at their consoles. All of them appeared to be fine, albeit unconscious, aside from a few cuts and bruises. After his brief tour, he returned to his command chair and called up a real-time blueprint of the _Magnus._

He sighed as the image came to life in front of him. More than seventy percent of the ships outer hull was shaded in light red, indicating areas that had been breached or were under a lot of stress, the rest was made up of orange, indicating areas that would need to be reinforced once the red areas were taken care of, and a small amount of green, which indicated areas that had taken no damage or only very light damage.

The shield status indicator blinked in the bottom corner, letting Burrows know that they were at a critically low 12 percent of optimal charge. The main weapons, the rail guns, laser cannons, missile bays and the Ion cannon, were all offline due to lack of power from the main reactor, which had shut itself down to prevent power surges from destroying the ship. The Laser Net CIWS, on the other hand, was operating at full functionality, aside from a small number of cannons that had been destroyed during the fight or damaged during the hyper jump.

All in all, it would take days, maybe a week to get the _Magnus_ back to within 90 percent optimal functionality, but the extensive damage to the hull ensured that the ACSIS would remain inoperable until some time at dry dock could be secured. The crew of the _Magnus_ had a long week ahead of them.

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**March 11****th****, 2187**

**Eden System**

**Experimental Seventh Generation Human Battleship **_**Redemption**_

Seventeen minutes after the twenty-first hour, on the eleventh day of the third month, the Goa'uld battle fleet arrived in the Eden system just over 150 million kilometres from the orbit of the lone inhabitable world, Eden Prime.

The prototype battleship _Redemption_, 1850 metres long and with a distinct spearhead shape, and its escorting cruisers and destroyers, forty three ships total, were the only defending ships and were all that stood between Eden Prime's defence grid and the enemy fleet.

Onboard the battleship itself, hundreds of crewmembers ran to their action stations. Crisis response teams, made up a few Marines, some medical personnel and engineers, took up strategic positions in the corridors of the great ship. Gunnery crews sat in their combat chairs, strapped in and watching the slow, methodical approach of hundreds of enemy fighters and gunboats through a holographic targeting system, fingers a hairsbreadth away from squeezing the triggers that would fire the massive guns.

Engineering crews made final checks of the internal systems, making sure the engines were receiving full power and that the shields were at optimal charge, checking the power feeds to the energy weapons that dotted the battleships hull. All across the small defending fleet, the same actions were undertaken by thousands of personnel.

The _Redemption_ was at the fore of the fleet, the cruisers and destroyers having taken up a crescent shaped formation, an aggressive stance that spoke volumes of the fleets intentions; they were preparing to charge the enemy fleet, a suicidal gesture at best, but it would buy the defence grid time to launch additional fighter drones and automated gun platforms, and every second counted.

"Enemy fighters entering extreme weapons range, automated defences engaging," Lieutenant Joseph Starkes spoke around the growing lump of anxiety and fear in his throat, sweat dripping off of his brow as his eyes stayed glued to the tactical overlay of the fleet action.

"Understood. All main batteries stand by for Alpha Strike once we've reached optimal range. Have the ECM suite brought up to full combat status, I don't want them getting clean locks on us," Captain Cassandra Forsyth ordered as she strapped her command chairs restraints about herself. "Push engines to 110 percent, all escorts are to maintain attack speed with us, we'll cut through the middle of their forward elements, circle back around the right flank and head back to the defence grid."

Once her orders had been relayed, Forsyth felt a faint tug as the engines forward momentum overpowered the inertial dampeners. The tactical overlay changed to a birds-eye view, and fleet strength estimates began scrolling through the hologram. The forward elements of the enemy fleet were roughly 100 thousand kilometres ahead of the second wave, and was made up of eighty or so gunboats, forty of the light cruiser analogues and twenty five of the heavy cruiser analogues. Just the forward elements outnumbered Forsyth's forces by nearly four to one, and if the defenders weren't able to break through to the other side or were too slow in looping back around their flank, they would be caught up and crushed under sheer weight of numbers.

As the range drop to below 120 thousand km, the four heavy cruisers and twenty destroyers with the _Redemption_ began emptying their missile racks, launching one nuke after another once every three seconds, resulting in more than three hundred warheads - the entirety of the fleets internal missile racks - crossing the void in just under two seconds and detonating all across the foremost ranks of the Goa'uld fleet. Several ships were destroyed outright in the brilliant, blinding flash, with dozens more falling out of formation leaking atmosphere. More still had their shields stripped, leaving them vulnerable to the next phase of the Eden Defence Fleets attack.

The range now just over eighty thousand km, the _Redemption_ and her escorts opened up with a coordinated Alpha Strike, rail guns, plasma and laser cannons, and the _Redemption_s heavy hitters, the three Particle Accelerator Cannons and two Ion Cannons raked across the Goa'uld ships, tearing several more apart in silent explosions, even as the Goa'uld finally began shooting back.

Golden plasma bolts began hammering the shields of the human task force, and a pair of destroyers and a light cruiser suddenly lost forward momentum as their shields were overwhelmed, one of the destroyers exploding into a million pieces. The _Redemption_s fore shields glowed a bright silver as dozens of heavy plasma bolts splashed against them, but they held against the fire of star-hot super heated gasses. Three more destroyers were lost and a _Kodiak_-class heavy cruiser was severely damaged before the human fleet pierced through the fore Goa'uld forces, the humans fire being redirected to the sides as they fended off dozens of ships.

Death gliders danced around the human ships, their own fighters having been contributed to the defence grid, spitting tiny balls of energy at the charging ships, some of them resorting to kamikaze tactics. A pair of human _Percheron_-class light cruisers, their hulls breached in a dozen places and leaking atmosphere which fed brief fires all along the ships, changed course suddenly and delivered Alpha Strikes to a pair of standard Ha'tak, moments before ramming them, one of them exploding immediately, taking its target with it, the other fusing together with the enemy ship and tumbling quickly off into the empty space around it.

The _Redemption_ shuddered violently as a dozen fighters and three enemy gunboats rammed her aft shields, the protective energy bubble finally giving out and allowing plasma bolts to connect with the thickly armoured hide of the prototype warship. Seconds from emerging out the other side of the Goa'uld fleet, the battleship fired its PACs and Ion Cannons again, tearing apart an upgraded Ha'tak and two standards.

With a final volley of exchanged fire, the Redemption and its escorts, now down to one heavy cruiser, three light cruisers and nine destroyers, broke free of the enemy fleet and immediately began looping around their right flank, now only taking and giving light fire.

"All units, return to the defence grid immediately, all platforms and drones are fully deployed. Repeat, RTB immediately," Forsyth heard the command from the Orbital Command Facility and smiled wearily to herself.

"Okay, helm take us back behind those battle stations," Forsyth ordered, although she knew she didn't need to. She returned her attention to the tactical overlay and sighed. Of the forty three ships she had started with, she now had only fourteen, all with moderate to heavy damage save for the lightly damaged _Redemption_.

_But_, she reminded herself_, they took twice that number of enemy ships with them, not to mention the fighter and gunboat casualties they caused. Still, this is just the beginning._

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**March 11****th****, 2187**

**Apophis' Flagship**

**Eden System **

Apophis seethed as his frontline wave of ships was savaged by the human ships. The small number of ships should have been no threat to the much larger force that Apophis commanded, yet they had charged his foremost wave and actually broken through to the other side, circled around and were now heading back to the orbital platforms of the world Apophis had been charged with taking.

"Order the second wave to move forward and bolster the first," Apophis ordered his First Prime, a large stocky Jaffa named Rya'c. Rya'c bowed to Apophis, then turned and relayed his orders to the second wave, the Flagship being at the centre of the fourth and final wave.

"Shall I have some Ha'taks break off and pursue the fleeing ships?," Rya'c asked his God, bowing his head slightly again. Apophis seemed to consider it a moment, but then shook his head.

"No. They will be destroyed when we take orbit, one way or another," Apophis stated with absolute certainty. For his part, Rya'c did not seem so sure, but wisely held his tongue. As the Goa'uld fleet got closer and closer to the blue, green and brown orb of the large terrestrial world, the First Prime began to notice that something seemed different somehow. Quickly he called up the reconnaissance records that the Al'kesh scouting party had sent back, and immediately noticed it: the number of orbital platforms had tripled in the time since the last scouting party had been here, most of the new platforms were fairly small though, most of them no larger than a Tel'tak cargo ship.

_That_, Rya'c reminded himself,_ does not mean they are not a threat_.

He considered telling Apophis, or warning the forward ranks of the fleet, but quickly decided against it. If anyone were to notice his treachery, he would surely be executed, but had a duty to fulfil, one that had been handed to him by his now deceased father, former First Prime of Apophis, Teal'c, and by Teal'c's also deceased former master, Bra'tac.

Whatever happened here, or in the near future, Rya'c had to complete his duty and restore the honour of his fathers name, and free all the Jaffa from the ego-maniacal, tyrannical rule of the False Gods. By keeping his silence, he jeopardised the entire mission, the fleet and everyone in it, but he also gave the defenders and advantage - even if only a slight one - and he had to know if these people had the power to help free his people.

All he had to do now was hope that one of the other commanders did not notice the increased number of defensive platforms before the first wave got within range.

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**March 11****th****, 2187**

**Commander of the Air Group Captain David Taulen's **_**Shrike**_**-class Assault Fighter**

**Eden Defence Force**

Captain Taulen followed the forward momentum of the first wave of enemy ships, watching as the second wave merged with the first to become one over strength battle fleet. He checked the systems of his fighter, starting with shields, engines and weapons. The _Shrike _Assault Fighter was the Seventh Generation replacement for the older Sixth Gen _Sabre _Space Superiority Fighter, and unlike the _Sabre_, its primary armament was plasma based, not laser based.

The V shaped fighter was equipped with four rotary plasma cannons and an internal missile bay with room for twelve AMRAAM - 121's, hydrogen warhead tipped anti-fighter missiles that would replace the AMRAAM - 116's that _Sabre _SSFs and _Scorpion_ Interceptors were equipped with. The _Shrike_'s were an impressive upgrade, and it was unfortunate that aside from Taulens squadron, only two others were presently in the Eden system, with the rest of the defending strike craft made up of _Scorpions_, _Sabres_ and anti-fighter gunships like the _Tectoria _point defence ships, hardy little vessels forty-five metres long and twenty metres across and equipped with twin front mounted rail guns and a Laser Net defence grid made up of fifteen turrets.

Comm. Chatter flooded Taulens COM link, people giving orders and updated targeting solutions for a combined missile volley. Taulen filtered it out, until all he could hear was the chatter between the five other members of his squadron and the orders being relayed from the OCF _Overlord_. After a few brief moments more of waiting, Vice-Admiral Rickman's voice came of the COM link.

"All attack squadrons, break and engage by flights," the Admirals smooth voice stated, and all around Taulen hundreds of tiny blue glows appeared, the signature of fighter sized Ion engines activating. Taulen activating his own engines and goosed the throttle, launching the fighter ahead at phenomenal speed. Even with the inertial compensators at full power, he was pressed back into his seat from the sudden burst of acceleration.

As the two opposing fighter screens drew ever nearer to each other, Taulens holographic tactical overlay lit up with countless golden circles, each on indicating the position of an enemy fighter or gunboat.

"Alright, guys," Taulen spoke over his squad-link," keep to your wingman like shit to a blanket, you don't wanna be alone out in this mess."

Affirmatives flashed back at him, moments before the fighters reached missile range. Each human fighter launched four missiles, with each missile targeting a different enemy craft. The exhaust plumes of hundreds upon hundreds of AMRAAM - 121's rushed out from the collective mass of fighters, and within moments, ball explosions lit up in the distance, each one marking the death of an enemy fighter. The gunboats took comparatively light casualties, each one taking three or four direct hits to destroy, but literally hundreds of death gliders met their end, only a small number of pilots having the quick reflexes to be able to shoot down the fast moving missiles.

After briefly savouring the small victory, Taulen and the other human fighters were among the enemy, still outnumbered four-to-one. Taulens cockpit lit up as the pulsing strobe of his quad plasma cannons firing a one second burst washed over the fighter, an image that was repeated on hundreds of other fighters. Ahead of him, his target exploded in a cloud of debris and short lived fire.

He yanked hard on the control yoke, swinging the _Shrike_ in behind an enemy gunboat, and launched a pair of missiles into its hindquarters, then broke off from his attack as dozens of golden plasma bolts stitched through the void around his fighter. The gunboat began a slow, ponderous turn that was cut short as another missile and a hail of blue plasma bolts tore through its shields and ripped apart the hull. The Captain grunted as he pulled his fighter in a tight 30G turn, firing his plasma cannons again and tallying another kill.

Behind and above him, his wingman launched a missile into another of the poorly designed enemy fighters, the craft breaking apart instantly. Taulen squinted his eyes against the distant flash of a nuclear detonation amongst the rear most ranks of the enemy fighter screen, instinctively manoeuvring despite not being able to see particularly well. The glare faded in time for him to dodge around a pair of _Sabres_ as they hunted down a gunboat, laser cannons strobing.

"Keep it tight and make a hole for the bomber wings, we've got enemy cap ships closing fast," Taulen heard the Tactical Command AI order over the COM link, and quickly the Captain looped his fighter back around and gunned it back to the RV point for his squadron, a blank area of space roughly 60 thousand km distant, just outside the reach of the Orbital Defence Grids non-missile weapons.

As the massed human fighters retreated, the Goa'uld fighters began to reform into a halfway decent attack formation, only to lose a third of their number 110 thousand km from the reach of the ODG to the hastily activated minefield that had been erected in the void between the ODG and the systems fifth planet, a gas giant made up mostly of Helium-3.

At that same time, Taulen and the other fighters were regrouping for a Spearhead Strike, a fighter tactic designed to make a tunnel through an enemy fighter screen and pave the way for bombing runs on enemy ships. He was pleased to see that his whole squadron had survived the short lived fur ball, although one of the _Shrikes_ was missing a plasma cannon and another had lost one of its four main engines.

"All _Shrikes_ are to form the tip of the spear, followed by _Sabres_ and with _Scorpions _taking up escort formations around the bomber wings," Tac. Com ordered, and the massed fighter formation quickly reformed into a large, three dimensional pyramid shape, _Shrikes_ at the fore. As the Assault Fighters and their Space Superiority Fighter brethren again charged the Goa'uld fighter screen, the Interceptors formed a protective shell around dozens of _Stalker_-class Heavy Tactical Bombers, each one harbouring a deadly payload of six 600 megaton Thorium based nuclear warheads.

Taulen tilted his head from side to side, trying to loosen up his shoulder muscles as he was once again pushed back into the padding of his seat. His fighter was fairly close to the tip of the Spearhead formation, and would likely be one of the first to come under fire. Again, the fighters fired off what remained of their missile stores, and again the death gliders had their numbers reduced by a considerable margin before even getting a chance to fight back.

A moment later, Taulen was in the thick of it again, finger squeezing the trigger on his control yoke, sending enemy fighter after enemy fighter to its destruction with balls of superheated plasma. He pulled hard back on his control yoke, looping the fighter back around in time to see a flaming _Sabre_ soar past his cockpit just metres away, a pair of death gliders hot on its tail. Without even thinking, Taulen again squeezed the trigger, clipping the first glider and destroying the second as it ran into his line of fire.

Just as he was swinging around again, the bombers now in view, passing down the middle of the rather large part in the mass of fighters, his aft shields flared blinding silver as they were assaulted, and he jerked the yoke back to the right, just barely avoiding another burst of plasma. A quick glance at his tracking computer told him he had been tagged by two gunboats, and they seemed intent on shooting him down.

He gritted his teeth in anticipation of his next move; he pushed forward on the yoke and instantly the fighter went into a bone crushing 45G dive. The Shrike corkscrewed violently as the inertial compensators fought valiantly against the gee forces being generated by the insane manoeuvre. Duelling fighters and bright explosions flashed by his cockpit at a dizzying pace, and surprisingly, the gunboats had managed to stay on his tail although they had fallen back quite a bit.

Taulen pulled back on the yoke, and his fighter instantly looped back up, so that now he was facing his pursuers as they charged at him and he at them. He squeezed the trigger, and again the plasma cannons pulsed out hundreds of glowing orbs of plasmatic energy, splashing violently against the forward shields of the closest gunboat. After several dozen hits, the shields on the gunboat finally gave way and the blue plasma cored through the armour and scoured the interior of the ship.

Taulen jinked his fighter, passing the burning debris by metres and fired on the second gunboat, by this time much closer. Blue plasma crossed paths with golden as the two ships fired on each other, Taulens fighter spewing out the energy projectiles at a much faster rate, but the slower firing gunboat dealing more damage per individual hit it scored.

Just as Taulens shields gave out and he lost one of his cannons, the gunboats shields gave way and the two vessels passed each other. That would have been the end of it for a short time, were it not for the vastly superior manoeuvrability of the Shrike and the excellent reflexes of its pilot: Taulen yanked on the yoke turning the fighter to such an angle that the nose was facing the gunboat as it passed, his finger still holding down the trigger. The three remaining plasma cannons stitched a line down the length of the gunboat, melting through the armour and superheating the insides.

Taulen continued flying straight 'up' until he had cleared the engagement zone by several hundred kilometres. Now effectively alone, he released his death-grip on his control yoke and clutched at his chest, the incredible pain from all those high-gee moves finally catching up with him. He breathed quick, shallow breaths as he gently pressed against his chest, trying to assess the damage.

He grimaced as the slight pressure aggravated his injuries; clearly he had at least a couple of broken ribs. The inertial compensators were rated to protect against 40Gs, but he had made several manoeuvres that had been somewhat higher than that. With deliberately slow movements, Taulen grabbed the Medpak situated beside him, in a small purpose built cabinet, opened it up and rummaged around inside for a short time, careful to keep an eye on his sensor suite for any incoming contacts. There were none within 1500km.

He grunted as he finally found what he was after. A Nano-Med booster pack, a medical application which would temporarily boost the number of nanites in his system, thus boosting the speed at which he could recover from injuries. Working quickly, he found a vein in his forearm and injected the Nano-Meds into his bloodstream, then discarded the use hypo in a small side compartment on the Medpak.

Taulen, then turned his attention to the battle unfolding 'below' him, his eyes widening slightly as he took it all in. Stretching out in every direction for a thousand kilometres, hundreds of fighter craft and gunboats duelled ceaselessly, small (from this distance) explosions dotting the battlefield, and all the while the enemy capital ships slowly advanced toward the defence grid.

He switched frequencies on his COM link and began to listen into the chatter floating about the system, much of it was human pilots reporting victory after victory, but there was the occasional report of defeat, either by an ejected pilot or by their wingman. He gasped as the Nano-Meds took effect; he could feel the cracked and broken bones in his chest beginning to stitch themselves back together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Taulen powered up his engines and started to head back into the writhing mass of star fighters, the pain in his chest having subsided enough for him to continue his grim duty.

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**March 11****th****, 2187**

**High Command, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Imperial**_

The Senate was in session again. And they were arguing again, this time about the findings of the SOCOM flotilla that had been sent along the escape trajectory of Ra's flagship.

"We have the perfect staging area for an attack against these "Gould" in P3Y-737, and you're telling me we can't use it!?," Major General Fields practically shrieked at Senator Bachmann. To her credit, the Senator did not flinch.

"No, we can't use it," she replied calmly, "because we don't know what happened to the _Magnus_. Yes, she won a battle that by all accounts she should have lost, and was able to affect repairs afterwards, but once the Comm. Drone was launched, we have no way of knowing what happened, why the _Magnus_ did not return. For all we know, there could be a massive enemy fleet waiting in ambush for us there."

Fields snarled, but he could not help but begrudgingly agree with the normally naïve woman. The fact was, as far as anyone knew, the Magnus had simply disappeared, which did not bode well for any attempts to turn P3Y-737 into a forward base.

"With the attack on Eden Prime still underway, we should be concentrating on building up our defences, so that we - ," Bachmann was cut off by the Tau representative of Cardec, a fringe-world that had a massive mining system in place to mine the enormous deposits of Titanium, Tritium and the all important Thorium, and was also the key site for testing Total Annihilation (Matter/Anti-matter) weapons and energy production

"So that we can cede defeat? So that we can sit back behind our fortifications and try to weather the storm? No. I want a peaceful solution as much as anyone in this room, but these creatures clearly do not want to listen to logic," Representative N'Ict spoke, his tone quiet but his words heard by all. "Therefore, I must support General Fields. Send a scouting party to P3Y-737, and if all is clear we can use it to go on the offensive whilst our enemy bleeds their fleets dry against the Camden Sectors defences."

"And if our scouts discover nothing is out of the ordinary?," questioned Representative I'Pah, the Eldest, and therefore highest ranking, Tau in the chamber.

"Then Vice-Admiral Lucas' fleet will be sent to establish a forward base of operations, with the support of the TRN 9th fleet and one of the _Titan _fortresses," Fields answered, somewhat calmed down from his outburst earlier. "There is something else of great importance about P3Y-737 that we must discuss as well: the artefact that the local populace referred to as the 'Gate To The Heavens'."

A murmur ran through the assembled Senators, Ambassadors and Military Personnel assembled around the Major General. Everyone in the room had been privy to the recordings that the _Magnus_' Comm. Drone had provided them with, and most were understandably anxious about this new technology the enemy had.

"It has come to my attention that an artefact that appears to be exactly the same as the one used by the enemy to move troops on our SOCOM team is currently residing in the Museum Of Ancient History And Arts in Berlin, Germany," the man said. The statement was followed by a moment of absolute silence, right before all hell broke loose.

Immediately, the many people assembled in the chamber began shouting, yelling at each other and flinging accusations to-and-fro, many of the humans blaming Fields for having kept this from them for so long, many others convinced that it was part of an elaborate scheme to remove them from power.

_Politicians_, Fields thought to himself, sneering in disgust as the duly elected representatives of each of Earths colonies turned into a band of raving lunatics.

_If this were a Military-Only meeting like I requested, we'd have gone through all the details and worked out a viable plan by now_.

Finally, much to Fields' relief, someone shouted for order. To his surprise, Senator Samantha Bachmann stood up on her chair and shrieked at the top of her lungs, calling for silence. Fields had noted a few surprises like this since the last meeting in these very chambers, namely that the normally peaceful Tau seemed to actually be pushing for war against the Goa'uld, and that they had ramped up their military budget and production tenfold.

It seemed that the unprovoked attacks had forced some of the more peaceable members of the Senate to rethink their ways, Bachmann was still very cautious, but once the attack on Eden Prime - her birthplace - began just over an hour ago, she too had begun to act more aggressively.

"Be silent!," Bachmann shouted. "Let the Major General explain himself before you start trying to lay blame."

The room began to quiet down, but Fields noticed many of the Fringe-Worlders were giving him the evil eye - they were the ones who believed that the Inner Colonies and Earth itself were keeping many secrets and technological advancements from them.

"Thank you, Senator," Fields said sincerely, to which Bachmann bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. Fields cleared his throat before issuing a mental command from his neural interface. A holographic image of the aforementioned artefact appeared in the centre of the room.

"This object was discovered in the sands of Egypt, part of the North African Protectorate, in 1927 AD. At the time, no one had any clue what it was, and it was assumed to be a sculpture of some kind, although there were a variety of rumours surrounding the artefact, namely that it was made of an unknown material, one that is completely foreign to Earth."

Again, the Senate erupted into chaos as the assembled dignitaries argued over the implications of what Fields was telling them. After a moment, Fields held up his hand and the crowd slowly began to calm down again.

"Does this mean that Earth may have been visited by these creatures some time in the past?, N'Ict asked, perplexed.

"It seems likely. Our analysts believe they now have some idea of how the artefact works. The outer ring, with the hollow chevron shaped object mounted on it, spins around the inner ring. The chevron pauses at the desired glyph carved on the inner ring, which are believed to represent stellar coordinates. Once the correct number of glyphs are entered in the correct order, we think it may open some kind of gateway that connects to another of these artefacts in some way, allowing objects to travel stellar distances without the aid of a starship," Fields stated, reciting what he had been told almost to the letter. He waited expectantly for the Senate to again become a verbal battlefield, but instead all he heard was silence. He looked around the room, and noticed that everyone was hanging of his every word, waiting for him to continue.

"Ultimately, though, we have no idea how it works in full, or even the basic power requirements needed to make it work. There is one thing we do know about it, however. The material used to construct it is an almost perfect match to the molecular structure of some of the materials used in the construction of the Progenitor Mothership," Fields stated, referring to the crashed space ship discovered on Mars shortly after the discovery of the Progenitor city.

"What does that mean?," Bachmann asked, breaking the silence that has enveloped the room.

"Well, it lends more credence to Vice-Admiral Lucas' theory that these Goa'uld are using technology discovered in Progenitor repositories, like us, but they have had more time to study them. Whatever the case, it is of vital importance that we learn the secrets to operating this artefact, as it could allow us to insert SOCOM teams behind enemy lines without risking stealth cruisers," he answered. "Also of great importance is discovering the fate of P3Y-737s protectors."

"What do you mean, protectors?," Senator Andrew Warren, of the Fringe-World colony Tanis, a mining colony that had succumbed to corruption and was believed to be housing a large number of pirates.

"Clearly you did not view the recordings, Senator Warren. If you had, you would have noticed that the Spectre team leader was told of a benevolent, highly advanced alien race that had been protecting the settlers from harm for generations," Bachmann answered the older Senator, with smug look on her face.

_Take that, you stupid bastard_, she thought to herself. She had been a rival of Senator Warrens for years, the two had never got along and it never helped that Warren was in the pocket of any number of pirate groups, though that had yet to be proven.

"Senator Bachmann is correct, there was mention of an alien race that had taken this world under their wing. It was also mentioned that they had mysteriously disappeared for reasons unknown, and that ever since they had left, strange occurrences had been happening, such as the appearance of predatory animals where none had existed before. It is vital that we find out what happened to these aliens, they may make good allies if this war escalates to the level ONI thinks it will," Fields stated, nodding slightly in Bachmann's direction, glad that she had been able to quickly quell the questions of a fool.

"Moving on, we - ," The Major General was cut off unexpectedly as the _Imperial_s AI, Templar, appeared on the holographic projector.

"Forgive me, General, but your presence has been requested in the Command Centre on a matter of utmost urgency," Templar spoke, bowing slightly, the facsimile of chain mail armour he wore clinking slightly as he brought his broadsword in front of his chest.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I leave the remainder of this briefing to my 2IC, Major Wong Si Ko. Major Wong, if you please," Fields spoke, knowing better than to waste time asking for an explanation from Templar. The Chinese man behind and to the right of Fields stepped forward and began speaking as Fields about-faced and hurriedly exited the room, heading for the Command Centre of the immense battle station.

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**March 11****th****, 2187**

**Edge of Epsilon Eridani System**

**Tok'ra Tel'tak Cargo Ship**

The Tok'ra ship exited hyperspace on the very edge of the system, one of more than a dozen that had been cautiously scouted by other Tel'taks over the past week. After careful deliberation, it was decided that this system would be the one in which the Tok'ra would initiate contact, because of its much higher hyperspace traffic and larger numbers of ships, mining facilities and orbital platforms.

The Tok'ra had been suitably impressed by the vast level of infrastructure that these humans seemed to support, and the obviously powerful fleets. The four Tok'ra inside this particular cargo ship were even more impressed when, moments after entering the system and de-cloaking, a pair of enormous ships, escorted by dozens of smaller vessels, turned their attention on them and half a dozen fighters rapidly closed in on the Tel'tak.

"Quickly! Tell them we mean no harm!," the most senior Tok'ra, a host named Jamarr and a symbiote named Selmak, ordered his subordinates. Even as the two younger men frantically relayed their message, Selmak watched the sensor readings on the approaching fighters, watching as their power levels increased by a great deal very suddenly.

_Probably activating weapons_, Selmak thought. It was understandable that the humans would take such an aggressive stance, since Tel'taks were Goa'uld designs, and the Goa'uld had already made clear their standing with the humans. He just hoped the message got through in time to save them from the fighters.

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**Wildcard Flight, Sabre SSF Squadron**

**Closing On Unknown Contact**

**Epsilon Eridani System**

"Okay, Wildcards, we've got a possible enemy contact bearing zero-nine-zero by six-zero-four. We are good for weapons hot, but hold fire until we can get a positive ID on this sucker," Captain Nathaniel Burton stated through his COM link, then activated his laser cannons and missile targeting systems as the other five squad members signalled their affirmatives.

As the six Sabres neared the contact, dodging around the occasional asteroid that had drifted away from the belt that rested between Bastion and the systems third planet, an unliveable lump of frozen rock with little to not about it other than its unusually high deposits of the recently discovered Thyrium, and its radioactive isotope, Thyrium-261.

Burton dropped down into a fairly steep dive with two other craft following, ducking in underneath a 1500km long asteroid that would likely be blasted to small chunks by one of the battleships if it got too close to Bastion, the other three fighters going over the top. According to the sensor readout, they were being slowly followed by a pair of battleships and their escorts, the back up if this craft turned out to be a scout for a second invasion force.

Burtons fighter cleared the side of the asteroid, coming up around it and meeting up with the others as they came down over the top, and the squadron was one again. After a moment more of continuing to close with the ship, the missile tone sounded, indicating that if necessary, he could fire a missile at the craft. Then, after rounding another, much smaller asteroid, Burton saw it for the first time.

It was a small craft, not much bigger than a gunship maybe, and reminded the Captain of a pyramid with rounded edges and a capstone that slanted forwards somewhat. There was no mistaking the design; it was distinctly reminiscent of the alien craft that had attacked Rear Admiral Vladislov and were currently sieging Eden Prime.

"Shit," Burton said to himself. Into his helmet mike, and by extension the COM link, he said, "Come in Tac Com."

A moments silence followed, then, "_This is Tactical Command, what do you have for us, Wild Lead_?"

"Confirmed enemy contacts, requesting permission to engage," Burton replied.

"_Permission granted, Wild Lead. Disable and secure the craft for our analysts_," came his orders. Burton nodded to himself and acknowledged his receipt of the orders, the opened his squad link.

"Okay, guys, we're weapons free, disable the ship and-"

He was cut off suddenly as a frantic voice, speaking in English, began speaking over the standard subspace frequency.

"_Approaching craft, please do not fire! We mean you no harm. We are here as an emissary for the Tok'ra and the Free Jaffa Nation! Please, do not shoot!_" The voice said. Burton, confused at the reference to the 'Tok'ra' and the 'Free Jaffa Nation', quickly belayed his orders to the squad and flipped the safety switch on his control yoke, preventing him from accidentally letting off a missile.

"Tac Com, did you hear that?," Burton asked over the command frequency, then waited tensely for a response.

"_Yes we did, Wild Lead. You have new orders. Take up an escort position around the craft and guide it to the _Imperial_s aft docking bay No. 6. If the crafts occupants refuse to comply, or if they try anything untoward, your previous orders are to be reactivated,_" the voice of the Tac Com communications officer came back over the subspace carrier frequency.

"Roger that, Tac Com," Burton affirmed, then switched to standard freq to speak with the crafts occupants. "Unknown vessel, remain where you are. My flight will be taking an escort position with you shortly, and we will take you our leader."

Over the still active squad freq, he heard several chuckles and sniggers, and he couldn't help but smile to himself at the unintentional pun.

"If you do not comply, or if you try to escape, you will be fired upon. Do you understand?"

There was no reply for a long time, too long for Burtons liking. Just as he was about to turn off the safety switch and reacquire the target, however, a different voice from before answered.

"_We understand. Take me to your leader._" At that remark, the squad freq again became a jumble of sounds, mostly laughter but with a little snorting mixed in here and there, and despite himself, Burton joined in.

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**March 12****th****, 2187**

**Apophis' Flagship**

**Eden System **

Unknown to Rya'c, the human clock had just ticked over midnight and a new day had started. Even had the aging Jaffa known, he would not have cared, because the spectacle going on before him was too amazing for him to worry about anything else at this point.

At first, Rya'c had been somewhat disappointed as the Goa'uld fleet approached the planet unfettered after the first delaying attack by the small force of ships nearly three hours previously. He had been pleasantly surprised when a large mass of human fighter craft assaulted the forward fighter screen, decimating their numbers in a brief skirmish before regrouping and making a precision strike through the middle of the Udajeet and Al'kesh formation, tearing a gaping wound in the mass of friendly fighters and allowing the slower, cumbersome enemy bombers to get through.

True, not a single bomber had survived longer than ten minutes, but in those ten minutes, sixteen standard Ha'tak and seven upgraded Ha'tak were destroyed, with nineteen other ships taking heavy damage. The tenacity and capabilities of the humans had made Rya'cs heart soar, because it gave him hope that maybe he could fulfil the promise he made to his late father decades ago with the help of these humans and their allies, and free all Jaffa from the shackles of the False Gods. He did not want to have to pass the responsibility on to his own son when his time came.

The tiny - by comparison to the galactic population of all Jaffa - fledgling Free Jaffa Nation was currently forced to hide on the outer edges of known space, the scant million free Jaffa and the half dozen Ha'tak that defended them huddled in fear that the False Gods would one day discover their treachery and destroy them. They collaborated with the Tok'ra frequently in undermining the authority of the Goa'uld, but they rarely succeeded in their goals and less than a hundred new Jaffa were set free each month.

Now, the Goa'uld fleet was within striking distance of the immense space stations orbiting the world they were going to conquer. He continued to watch with barely concealed glee as the large human ship that had led the initial charge hours ago tore another pair of Ha'tak from the sky, unaware that behind him, in his throne, Apophis was fuming, on the verge of an outburst to release the slowly building pressure of his pent up outrage.

The space battle had already taken twice as long as it should have, with no end yet in sight, and Apophis' fleet had been hit hard with nearly a hundred Ha'tak, both standard and upgraded, out of commission and more than three quarters of the Udajeet and half the Al'kesh destroyed.

Apophis didn't know who, but he did know that someone was going to pay dearly for this.

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**March 12****th****, 2187**

**Eden System**

**Experimental Seventh Generation Human Battleship **_**Redemption**_

The deck heaved beneath Captain Forsyth's feet as the _Redemption_ exchanged broadsides with a pair of Ha'tak. The ship itself was badly damaged, with deep gouges and gaping holes in the advanced composite armour that protected the ship, and many of its guns having fallen silent as power feeds were cut from enemy fire or the turrets themselves were damaged or destroyed.

"Adjust our heading to zero-zero-six by nine-zero-six and align our dorsal guns for volley fire one these three ships," Forsyth ordered, designating the desired targets on the tactical display.

"Aye, ma'am, adjusting course," her helmsman replied, and the battleship began turn. As Forsyth watched through the bridges heavily armoured and shielded view ports, a pair of _Sabres_ flashed by, followed less than a second later by three enemy gunboats firing golden energy projectiles after them. The rearmost gunboat caught a burst of laser fire in its flank, overwhelming its shields and tearing apart its starboard hull.

"Weapons status," Forsyth requested, turning her attention to the Redemptions Weapons Officer as the ship took another volley plasma fire, one of the large bolts splashing harmlessly against the bridge shields.

"Our PACs are ate eighty percent charge and climbing at a rate of three percent per second. Ion Cannons are fully charged but need another thirty seconds to bleed off the remaining radiation from the last firing. We have four plasma batteries and seven laser batteries remaining," the WO responded, making minute adjustments to his firing solutions as the _Redemption_ approached the designated coordinates.

Outside the vessel, the space above the dark side of Eden Prime was alight with hundreds of explosions and ceaseless cannon fire and shields flaring. The _Overwatch_-class Battle Station above the Southern Pole fired a volley of nuclear missiles from its many tubes, the warheads spreading out in all directions as the surrounded and besieged battle station struggled to fight off its attackers, the immensely powerful shields flaring bright silver under the constant bombardment of plasma fire.

The _Redemption_ soared past barely forty thousand km from the battle station, close enough for its PACs to fire with near-perfect accuracy. As one, the three double-barrelled cannons fired, each on a separate target. The two of the three targeted ships were standard Ha'taks, and their shields gave out almost as soon as they were hit, taking crippling hull damage in the process. The other ship was one of the newer Ha'taks, and although its shields were stripped from it, it didn't take enough hull damage to keep the ship out of the fight.

The killing blow was delivered by the battle stations heavy rail guns, a trio of 750 metric ton projectiles launched at 70 percent light-speed, demolishing the unfortunate Ha'tak in an explosion of light and sending a million pieces of debris flying in every direction, some of it vaporising against the _Redemptions _shields.

A short distance away, the last remaining _Percheron_ light cruiser was hammered in its aft side by a pair of Ha'tak and a half dozen gunboats, its over stressed shields failing and the relatively thin armour running in molten rivers down its slightly curved side. The cruisers few remaining heavy guns did nothing to deter its attackers, and after another twenty seconds of sustained fire, it split in two down the middle, the rear half still moving under its own power thanks to the engines. The front half slowly tore itself apart as secondary explosions erupted over its surface. The remains of the ship slowly tumbled into a declining orbit above the planet, its fate sealed.

Now all that remained of the local defence ships was three near-crippled destroyers and the moderately damaged _Redemption_. Seeking vengeance, the _Redemptions_ crew adjusted their course again and began heading for the small group of ships that had destroyed the light cruiser.

"We have a firing solution for the Ion Cannons for those two cruisers," the WO informed Forsyth. The Captain nodded. The orbital battle had been lost the moment the enemy fleet arrived, it was the defence grids job to whittle down their numbers and hope that the Sector Fleet would be enough to drive the attackers off. For now, the crew of the _Redemption_ and the tens of thousands of people occupying the battle stations and gun platforms would do what they could and pray for a quick death when the time finally came.

"You may fire when ready," Forsyth ordered, and immediately the two Ion Cannons fired. Twin beams of brilliant whit Ionic energy speared the two Ha'tak and their shields glowed bright gold as they struggled to fend off the titanic energies arrayed against them. The nearest Ha'taks shields gave out under the enormous stress put on its generator by the cannons fire, and it was immediately hit with dozens of laser pulses and plasma bursts from the charging battleship, breaking up finally under the fire.

The other Ha'tak, its shields on the verge of failing, charged at the _Redemption_, plasma cannons firing wildly. The battleships own cannons returned fire even as the lumbering vessel began to take evasive manoeuvres. The Ha'taks shields lasted barely three seconds under the bombardment, but it did not slow, even when its main guns ceased firing.

The Redemption, its shields at critical levels, redoubled its forward fire as it tried to stop the oncoming ship. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that. The Ha'tak collided with the much larger vessel, the force with which it connected quickly overwhelming the shields and sending the Ha'tak driving deep into its hull. There was a blinding white flash as the Ha'taks reactors went critical, and the smaller ship exploded.

The very last thing that Captain Cassandra Forsyth saw as the flashed cleared away was a sixty metre length of the _Redemptions _own hull plating slamming into the bridge, effectively beheading the great battleship.

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**March 12****th****, 2187**

**CAG Captain David Taulen's **_**Shrike**_**-class Assault Fighter**

**Eden Defence Force**

"Fuck me," Taulen whispered to himself as the _Redemption _finally succumbed to the battle. The battleship had practically carried the human side of the battle on its proverbial shoulders, and with it out of the picture, the remaining defenders could not possibly last long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

The OCF and more than three-quarters of the defence grid was in tatters, the orbit above Eden Prime thick with debris from both sides of the fight.

"_All remaining units, head planet side immediately. We've lost this fight, but we might be able to lend the ground pounders a hand_," Taulen heard over the COM link. The voice speaking was Commander Onin Mutambe, the highest ranking fighter commander still in the fight. Taulen nodded to himself, taking a deep breath and regretting as his chest flared with pain. No matter how good the Nano-Meds were, it would still take at least another day for the pain to die down completely and perhaps two days after that the broken ribs would be completely healed.

As one, the remaining fifty or so fighters still capable of atmospheric flight turned and headed for the atmosphere of the world they were tasked with defending.

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**March 12****th****, 2187**

**Location Unknown**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

The Magnus was still in a bad way, even after two days of near constant repairs. Only small sections of the hull had been patched, the shields were only at 30 percent integrity, the engines were still barely functional and the long range sensors were still offline.

Commander Burrows' sleep had been plagued with dreams that were very similar to the one he had experience when they had first arrived at wherever they were, and as it turned out, he wasn't the only one having unusual dreams about people he had never met. Extra Sensory Perception had long since been proven to be scientific fact, and was quite common these days, so Siobhan's theory was that the reason so many of the crew were sharing such similar dreams was because the were prophetic visions of the near future.

No one onboard the Magnus had any clue just how on the money the AI's hypothesis was. Right now, Burrows was discussing the likely-hood that they would be able to find their way back to where they came from, and if that was not possible, what they would do about finding a new place to settle.

"Recon Drones confirm that we're in a binary star system, but aside from this asteroid belt and a distant Ionic nebula, there appears to be nothing of any real value in this system However, the RDs were getting anomalous readings from the nebula. They indicated that there may be a planetary body hidden within it," Siobhan stated.

"Can we get some drones through the nebula to confirm that?," Burrows asked, scratching his cheek lightly as he examined the holographic display representing the star system they were currently in.

"I've already sent two drones into the nebula, we should have the results of their findings by tomorrow when they return," the AI replied, indicating two flashing blue dots on the display with the words 'RD1' and 'RD2', respectively.

"Excellent. Keep me informed, please Siobhan," he said, and the AI deactivated the holo display and left the room. Burrows turned of the lights in his quarters and headed for his bunk, hoping he would not dream again.

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A/N: In terms of finding a suitable ally for the Goa'uld, I'm willing to take suggestions as I can't really think of anyone with similar enough ideologies to make good allies for them. I was thinking of maybe using the Halo Series antagonists, the Covenant, as they are religious fanatics who believe in vastly powerful higher beings, much like the Jaffa revere the Goa'uld, but because of their apparent hatred of humanity, I don't think that it'll work out too well.

On the other hand, I may still use the Covenant, but instead of making them allies to the Goa'uld, I'd turn it into a three way war between the Human/Tau Alliance, the Goa'uld Union and the Covenant themselves. Let me know what you think. R&R please, I could use some more constructive feedback.


	7. Things To Come

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

**To Elaur:** Thanks for the review, glad you like the story so far. As far as your suggestions go, I was intending to add in a little Star Wars at some point, just wasn't sure which era to go with or how I could make it work, but I'll find a way. As for the Minbari, I'm afraid I don't know enough about them to make them viable yet, it's been a long time since I saw Babylon 5 (movies or TV series), but I'll see what I can do.

**To Ogi: **Thank you. Glad you liked the battle and my AU history. Sadly, it seems that in order for a story like this to work properly, there has to be at least some politics involved, something I wish I could avoid but can't, I'm afraid. Hopefully I should have the Covenant making their debut in the next chapter.

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**March 12****th****, 2187**

**Assaultech Industries Headquarters**

**Michael Cortez's Office**

As the head of the Theoretical Energy Manipulation Division at the sector headquarters of the largest weapons research company in existence, it was Michael Cortez's job to ensure that all of the personnel were evacuated before he himself had to leave. It was also his job to make copies of all the advanced research underway at the facility and to destroy the originals, to ensure that none of the new weapons systems, shield generators or personal combat armour designs fell into the invaders hands.

For Cortez, his day had been getting exponentially worse since the moment he woke up to discover that he had been burgled during the night, and the very expensive engagement ring that he had intended to give to his girlfriend of three years at dinner on Saturday night had been stolen, along with a 150 year old gold watch that had belonged to his great-grandfather.

Now, his home was being invaded by religious aliens and he was to be one of the last people to get to a bunker. With what seemed like the thousandth sigh to escape his lips in the past hour, Cortez exchanged another full data crystal with an empty one and continued the upload. Each crystal was able to contain ten terabytes of information, and he had nine full and six more to go, and that was just his department. There were a half dozen other departments in the building, each one containing just as much vital information as his own.

At thirty four, he was young for his position, but lead it with a maturity not often seen, even in the older division heads. Five feet and ten inches tall, with dark brown hair that extended to just below his ears and was forever getting into his eyes, themselves also dark brown, and with the body of a professional soldier, he cut an impressive figure.

It made sense that he would have such a well maintained physique, considering he joined the Marine Corps at eighteen to pay for his college tuition, and the strict diet and training regimen of humanity's finest had stuck with him, even after ten years of no longer being in the service.

Cortez was alone in the building, aside from the eight man Marine escort waiting in the lobby and two other division heads, and to say that he was eager to leave would be an understatement of epic proportions. It wasn't that he was worried for his life, although he was, so much as he was fearful for the thirty one year old woman who had captured his heart, one Emily Griffin.

His anxiety increased tenfold as an ear shattering boom reverberated through the building and an impressive cloud of debris and molten earth was flung high into the air from a location roughly six city blocks away, evidence of orbital bombardment.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, snapping his head back around to face the computer station he was working at. "Come on you piece of shit, hurry up!"

With a soft beep, the computer ejected the now-full data crystal, and Cortez quickly put it with the other full ones, putting another empty in its place. He returned his attention to the view out the window, the late night air now aglow with the fires that the orbital bombardment had set off.

High above the city, in orbit, the skies were ravaged with explosions, indicating that there had to be at least some human ships or defence platforms still in the fight. Cortez continued to watch as several streaks of light headed toward the planet from orbit at phenomenal speed, followed by many more. In all, he estimated perhaps fifty or so of these 'falling stars' had appeared before no more came.

Whatever the streaks were, it was clear that they were not blasts from the high-powered plasma weapons the enemy used, nor were they any other kind of weapon that Cortez had seen before. So engrossed was he in the events happening above, that he never noticed a bony hand reach out from the shadows of his rather large office, grasping for his shoulder.

The hand came down on his right shoulder, and with a yelp of fright, Cortez spun, grabbing the hand and yanking with all his considerable might, dragging the offender up close. In a lightning-quick series of movements, he pushed back on the arm that he now held and swung in behind his would-be attacker, pulling it up at a sharp angle behind the other mans back and grabbing his throat from behind with his left hand, Just as he began applying pressure, preparing to snap the mans neck, a shout from behind distracted him.

"Mikey, no!," the voice said, and Cortez spun, still grasping his assailant, to face the third person now in his office. "Take it easy man, it's just me and K'Ton!"

The other man was Peter Smidts, head of the Nanotechnology Division, and after hearing what the other human had said, he realised that the person he had very nearly killed was in fact K'Ton, the Tau who head up the Advanced Genetics and Engineering Division. Instantly, Cortez released his friend and adopted a sheepish expression.

"Sorry, man. I guess I'm just a little jumpy," Cortez offered an apology, his voice quiet as he contemplated the fact that he had very nearly killed one of his closest friends. For his part, K'Ton didn't seem overly phased.

"It is not a problem, Michael. Perfectly understandable, considering I approached you whilst your attention was elsewhere, amidst an invasion of all things," K'Ton said, if anything sounding even more apologetic than Cortez had.

"Listen, K'Ton and I just finished up with our departments, and everyone else is gone already. We were just stopping by to see if you needed any help," Smidts stated, glancing nervously out of Cortez's window. As the other man spoke, Cortez Once again exchanged a full crystal for an empty one.

"No thanks, I think I've got it covered. You guys should head on, get to a bunker before the shit really hist the fan," Cortez replied, turning his attention once more to the sky outside. There were no more explosions, and seeing as no more shots had been fired into the city, he assumed that that one shot was an accident, and the aliens intended to take the city - maybe even the whole colony - intact. Which meant they would be landing troops.

"No, Michael. I will stay with you until you are ready to leave," K'Ton said firmly, clearly not willing to leave his friend behind. Smidts nodded his agreement instantly. Although Cortez didn't particularly want to be completely alone at the moment, he also didn't want anyone risking their lives for his sake.

"I don't think -," Cortez's answer was cut off as another earth shattering boom resonated through the air, and behind him, out the window, an immense pressure wave shattered every window on every building within just over three kilometres of the impact sight of an overcharged staff cannon shot from one of the Ha'taks in orbit. The three men inside Cortez's office had barely enough time to drop to the floor behind Cortez's desk as the supposedly shatter-proof glass window exploded into a million pieces.

As the echoing boom died down, Cortez and his two companions slowly stood from behind the ravaged desk. The office was a ruin, the computer totalled, the plush chair shredded, even the small fern Cortez kept in the corner was decimated.

"I think that's our queue to leave," Smidts said, eyes wide as he surveyed the damage both within the office and the rest of the city outside. Cortez scooped up the data crystal case, his stomach dropping as he realized he would not be able to extract all the files from the central computer now that there was practically nothing left of it.

The case the crystals were contained in was known to many as the 'Black Box'. It was a black suitcase, lined with synthetic diamond and an ultra strong, and incredibly rare, metal called Duranium. Rail gun rounds couldn't even scratch it, laser and plasma weapons did little more than make black scorch marks on its surface, it was completely invulnerable to any kind of radiation and was able to withstand more than 40 thousand pounds per square inch of pressure.

The Box itself was designed to be able to withstand sustained orbital bombardments. When it came to protecting its scientific secrets, Assaultech Industries was willing to go to just about any length. So, while the already full crystals were completely safe, the ones that had yet to be filled and the one already in the computer were destroyed completely beyond recovery.

"Right," Cortez said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

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**March 13****th****, 1287**

**1.2 Parsecs From Eden System**

**Camden Sector Fleet, Command Dreadnought **_**Relentless**_

The _Relentless_ and the 240 other ships that made up the Camden Sector Fleet had been sitting just outside of the Eden system for nearly a day now, and tensions were running high among all one hundred thousand-odd Naval personnel that crewed the ships.

Once word of the failure of the Orbital Defence Grid and the local defence forces to maintain orbital superiority had reached HICOM, the Sector Fleet had been ordered to an all-stop. The CSF was originally going to emerge from hyperspace behind the invasion force, and sandwich the ships between the ODGs guns and the fleets.

With the ODG out of commission, the fleet had been forced to halt their advance and wait for the next _four days_ for reinforcements from the TRN 12th fleet and the UNSC 2nd fleet. In the meantime, the primary hyperspace routes into and out of Eden were being prowled by Wolf Packs of _Darden_-class destroyers, nimble warships designed specifically to take on much larger ships, equipped with a spinal Particle Accelerator Cannon each and working in groups of four.

Powerless now to do anything but follow his orders, Rear Admiral Artemis Porcini had spent the majority of the previous twenty four hours going over the hourly updates on the situation in Eden, delivered via burst communication from a number of Recon Drones that the fleet ha launched upon arriving at their current coordinates.

The news, as was to be expected, was grim. There was evidence of orbital bombardment in the three major cities, First City, the capitol, and Harper and Julius, with Julius having taken the brunt of the fire. Estimated casualties were in the millions, and were it not for the bunkers, that estimate would have been much higher. To top it all off, the enemy had had reinforcements trickling in ever since taking orbit, between three and eight ships arriving every half hour.

With no other recourse, Porcini continued doing what he had been doing, drawing up plans for a three-pronged assault and praying that the reinforcements were early.

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**March 13****th****, 2187**

**Location Unknown**

**UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

Repairs to the _Magnus_ were coming along nicely, nearly 20 percent ahead of schedule in fact, and morale was surprisingly high. The _Magnus_' crew had been informed of their situation, and of Siobhan's fairly low estimation of their chances of getting back to Earth or Tau territories in their lifetime. The fact was that the _Magnus_ was hopelessly lost.

Sure the crew had the coordinates for every colony in Allied territory, but they did them no good without their current coordinates in relation to the colonies. This was one of the main reasons why space exploration was slow and methodical; in order to make long range trips through hyperspace, the inter-dimensional space-time rift that made Faster-Than-Light travel possible, the exploring party had to have 'home' coordinates, the coordinates in relation to other known points of interest, and the 'destination' coordinates, the coordinates in relation to the home coordinates and any other given point.

It was a lengthy process, one that human minds, as they were, were ill suited for. Even the most advanced and sophisticated SAIs (Sentient Artificial Intelligences, Siobhan for reference) had tremendous difficulty calculating an accurate hyperspace jump without known 'home' coordinates.

There was one good thing about their situation, however, and that was that it looked like they weren't completely alone. The anomalous readings within the nearby Ionic Nebula that had been assumed to be a planetary body had now been confirmed to actually be a large terrestrial plant. Not only was the plant habitable, but it also appeared to be _inhabited_ by what looked like the beginnings of a small colony.

Even better, from what the RDs were able to ascertain, the colonists were _human_. One small group of humans on a backwater planet outside of known space had not been much of a surprise; it had long been theorised that the Progenitors may have taken small groups of humans throughout history and transplanted them to other worlds to see how they adapted and grew as a society. Even the very human-like Goa'uld had not been as much of a surprise for the veterans-to-the-strange as one would think. Human remains had been discovered on worlds where no human, as far as Earth history was concerned, had ever been before.

But this was remarkable. Humans so far from Earth that they were almost in another galaxy entirely, not to mention the incredible odds of the _Magnus_ literally stumbling into a system inhabited by them. There was no mistaking that they were human, either. The Goa'uld had different life signatures to average humans, and these people did too, but not nearly on the level of the Goa'uld. In this case, it was more akin to genetic drift than being a part of a completely different species.

And so here they were, the highest ranking officers on the Magnus, trying to decide exactly what they should do about this new predicament: initiate contact and hope for the best, or steer clear and hope that Siobhan was able to get them home sometime in the next decade. Both propositions had their fair share of risk involved.

"The facts are this, gentlemen," Siobhan stated, her normally clear and highly detailed holographic 'body' now glowing a faint blue, lines of coding running through her form as she accessed and analysed any number of programs while she ran diagnostics on the _Magnus_' internal systems and gave the briefing at the same time. "We may be as far as one-to-three kilo parsecs from known space at the moment. We do not have long range communications, and even if we did, it would take years for anything we might send to reach anyone. We are currently operating at 63 percent nominal combat capacity. And we are less than a parsec from a settlement of unknown humans."

The room, containing just five people, Chief of Engineering Marcus Powell, Commander Albert Burrows, Sergeant Major James Allen (SOCOM), Colonel Thomas Locitz (Marine Corps) and Elder T'Mak (TRN Liaison and SFC), was completely silent as the occupants waited for their AI companion to finish her opening statements.

"Other than the fact that they are human and that they use, as far as we can tell, archaic technologies, we know nothing about the people that chose this system's only planetary body on which to settle," Siobhan paused a moment to clear her throat, something which wasn't necessary but which she found helped humans relate to her more easily. "As far as making contact with them goes, I'm open to suggestions."

The five breathing occupants all looked around at each other, seemingly trying to gauge each others reactions and see who would be most likely to have an idea that would be pertinent to the situation at hand. Colonel Locitz surprised everyone, himself included, when he spoke.

"I say we contact them when the Magnus is at better than 75 percent combat functionality, then offer a trade. Whatever they might need from us in exchange for local star charts," the man said, his voice grizzled from decades of smoking cigars and barking orders.

"And some non-irradiated food, most of our stores took a beating during our transition here," Powell added, scratching his slightly hawkish nose. "We've got about three months supply left, which sounds like a lot, but considering we were loaded up with consumables to last us four times that long, it means we're in a bad way if we're really stuck here indefinitely."

Siobhan nodded thoughtfully, another unnecessary task, and turned her attention back to Commander Burrows.

"It's a solid plan, sir. At 75 percent or higher combat functionality, I believe we would be able to stave off the two purpose-built warships the drones identified long enough to make an escape to hyperspace if things turned nasty, and if we had reliable star charts, the chances that I would be able to calculate an accurate trajectory back to Allied territory would increase by thirty-three-point-three-nine percent."

"Then we are agreed. Continue with the repairs until we are adequately able to defend ourselves if they turn out to be hostile, then make contact and hope they have accurate star charts for us," Burrows stated, leaning back in his comfortable synthetic leather chair. There were nods all around the table. A thirty three percent increase in their chances was better than nothing, and pushed their total chance of success up to just over forty five percent.

"If you want to make face-to-face contact with them, I can have a Shock Trooper unit escorting you," Colonel Locitz said.

"We don't want to scare the crap out of them, Tom," Burrows replied. "James, would your team be willing to be my escort should we attempt such contact?"

Locitz frowned, looking like he wanted to say something, then changed his mind when he realized the Commander was right. They had no idea how these new people would react to two-and-a-half metres and 320 kilograms of power-armoured Shock trooper, let alone an eight man unit of the venerable soldiers.

"We're ready for whatever you need us for, sir," the Spectre replied with absolute conviction. Burrows nodded to the other man, turned to Powell and was about to ask a question regarding the performance of the Nano-Fabricators, when a soft musical chime echoed through the room and a familiar voice spoke.

"Commander Burrows, sir, I'm sorry to interrupt the meeting, but you requested to be notified if anything unusual showed up on sensors." It was Lee Mercer, the young Lt. that had roused Burrows from his dream shortly after the cataclysmic hyperspace transition that dumped them in the middle of the unknown regions of space to the galactic west of Allied territories.

Burrows jabbed his index finger onto the comm. button built into the meeting room table.

"It's fine, lieutenant, what is it you've got for me?"

There was silence for a short time on the other end, then, "I'm not sure, sir. It looks like a hyperspace shadow, but it's moving nearly ten times faster than any hyper-capable vessel I've seen before. I think you and Siobhan had better take a look, sir."

The end of that sentence was met with shocked silence from everyone in the room, even Siobhan looked genuinely unsettled, something that was certainly possibly given the near-perfect Emotion Algorithms an SAI was gifted with at 'birth'. Ten times faster than anything on records. That should have been impossible, considering that even in hyperspace there were limits as to a ships top speed, and the fastest Allied vessels were capable of just over 80 percent top hyper speed.

"Siobhan, get to the bridge and set Condition One throughout the ship, status Combat Alert Alpha," Burrows ordered, the AI instantly disappearing and reappearing a nano-second later on the bridge. Almost as soon as she was gone, klaxons began blaring throughout the ship and the 900-plus people aboard scurried to their battle stations.

Even as Burrows hurried out of the room and broke into a run for the bridge, he could hear Colonel Locitz barking orders to counter-boarding teams and Marine units and COE Powell speaking a little more calmly into his wrist-communicator, making sure the damage control and crisis response teams knew their places. Burrows charged past a pair of power-armoured Marines bustling down the corridor to their defence positions, then took a hard left.

He followed the new corridor for just over sixty metres, past an armoury and a small group of engineers hastily plasma-welding battle plating to the walls, past an automated defence drone, hovering on its anti-gravity repulsers and tracking its twin-linked plasma cannon along the length of the corridor, then around a Tau technician working on an atmosphere control panel and around another corner, turning right this time.

Burrows was now as close to the outer hull as one could be and still be on the ship. He manoeuvred his way around gunnery crews as they moved to the three rail guns positioned along the ninety metres of corridor, sparing a glance to the auto-loading mechanisms as the slotted fresh fifty-round magazines of 220mm High-Explosive Anti-Ship rail gun rounds. Finally, he made it to the end of the corridor, turned left and dashed the last forty metres that would take him to an elevator that took him to deck thirty-one, right below the bridge. From there, he would need to cross another forty metres of corridor before reaching the smaller lift that would deposit him on the bridge.

When finally he arrived at his destination, he found his bridge-crew hard at work, making final checks for the auto-targeting Laser Net defence grid and heavy laser cannons, completely ignoring his presence save for Lieutenant Mercer, who immediately stepped away from the control console and saluted his CO. All in all, the trip from Briefing Room Three to the bridge had taken just over forty seconds, which would have been exceptional for a non-augmented human, but for a military man with all the 'upgrades' available, it was passable.

"What's the status of the object, Lt.?," Burrows asked, barely even panting.

"We detected the object moving at super-luminal speeds just over sixty seconds ago on our extreme range sensors, sir. Since then, the object has moved just over half a light-year, moving towards the planet hidden in the nebula," Mercer dutifully responded, sparing a nervous glance at the console that indicated the movement of the object.

"At that speed, it'll reach the planet in 92 seconds, sir," Siobhan added in her calculations. "Given the fairly primitive nature of the vessels orbiting the planet, and considering the enormous power and the technology required to move at such speeds, I'm assuming the object is not human in origin. It could be a hostile ship that intends to destroy the humans."

"If that's the case, sir, then I think we have no choice but to intervene if we want to gain the favour of the locals," Mercer said, watching his commanders face closely for any hint of emotion. There was none.

"If we do that, Lt., it places this ship and everyone aboard it at risk," Burrows replied tersely. He wasn't about to kill everyone on the _Magnus _just to try and save somebody that, for all he knew, would just as soon blow them out of the sky as look at them, or were possibly even allied with whomever or whatever was on the ship heading for the planet. If it was a ship at all.

"Sir, if we don't do something, then we're all dead anyway, because there is no way I'll be able to plot an even remotely accurate long range jump to get us home if those people are killed," Siobhan said. She didn't want to put her human comrades at risk any more than the commander did, but she also knew that without local star charts, she would be only able to make thirty light-year jumps at most without a huge miscalculation that could end with them emerging into a sun.

Something flickered in the commanders eyes, and Mercer knew that they had swayed him. Better to die quickly and on your feet than spending the rest of your life trapped onboard a ship to die of starvation, dehydration or even old age.

"Siobhan," Burrows said with deceptive calm.

"Sir?"

"Plot the jump."

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_The cruiser glided easily through the slip-stream, its shields and weapons deactivated, passive sensors scanning the swirling multi-coloured eddies of the 11__th__ dimension. The fleet from which it had travelled had detected the presence of food in much larger quantities than had been seen in one place for nearly 400 years. Better still, from what the immensely powerful sensors of the super-dreadnought that commanded the fleet had been able to determine, there were even ships present, meaning there would be at least some sport to be had for the hunter-gatherers._

_The fleet had been moving away from home for a long time, ever since the Unending Wars had been lost centuries ago and the fleet was forced to take as many ships and people as it could and search for a new home, one far away from the Dark Ones that had ended the greatest stellar empire the galaxy had ever seen._

_With so much fresh food, they would be able to feed the impoverished citizens of the city-ships that the fleet now protected. Thos aboard the cruiser could barely wait, their stomachs howling for the delight of finally tasting real food again. Soon, they would have all that was needed to keep their rations afloat. Very soon._

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**March 13****th****, 2187, That Same Time**

**High Command, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Imperial**_

After spending 48 hours in quarantine to ensure there were no communicable diseases either the Allies or his group could transfer to one another, Selmak of the Tok'ra, and his two companions from the fledgling Free Jaffa Nation, were finally freed from the Quarantine Zone and escorted to a large and somewhat plush (for a military installation) briefing room.

The trio were greeted by a small group of individuals, humans in a variety of uniforms with decorative ribbons and pieces of some kind of precious metals, and bald, large eyed and well built aliens that reminded Selmak of over-sized Asgard, dressed in ceremonial robes.

None of them looked particularly pleased to see the three men, something which Selmak put down to the many physical similarities between himself and a Goa'uld, and of course the Jaffa. From what he had heard before leaving on this diplomatic mission, Apophis was invading a human world, so Selmak could hardly blame the assembled dignitaries in the room for the hostile looks he was receiving.

One particularly menacing-looking human leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the large wooden table that dominated the room, and looked Selmak square in the eye.

"We have a great deal to discuss, you and I," the human stated in a voice that brooked no argument. Selmak could not help but feel intimidated by the large man.

_This may be unpleasant…_

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A/N: Sorry for the shorter-than-usual update, but I've got quite a lot on my plate at the moment and I wanted to get the set up for the next chapter done. Speaking of which, the next chapter will be dealing with the ground assault on Eden Prime, the interrogation of Selmak and his Jaffa buddies, what the scouting party at P3Y-737 turned up, the revelation of just who the humans orbiting the planet in the Ionic Nebula are and who wants to eat them, and the Covenant and the Asgard both make themselves known in a rather spectacular fashion.

It'll also reveal what Baal is up to when it comes to securing his position as Supreme System Lord, and how he plans to overcome Anubis, who sent the two Ha'taks to P3Y-737, and the Allies will be encountering a new Goa'uld warship.


	8. New Caprica

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

**To UNSC ODST: **Thanks for the support, I wanted to give readers a better idea of what the inside of the _Magnus_ would look like while the crew prepares for battle. If all goes according to plan, then the next chapter should have an introduction to the Republic and what state it's in. As for the alien fleet, you'll just have to read to find out.

**To WBH21C: **Thank you, I've been trying to write this up to be as interesting and compelling to read as I can, but as this is my first attempt at writing fic, I'm not sure how it's going. Earth will be getting some samples of Naquada sometime in the next couple of chapters, so you've still got some waiting to do yet.

**To Saetan: **Don't worry, there's going to be plenty more of this story to come.

A/N: Due to the time constraints it puts on the story as a whole, I will no longer be using specific dates for the events that occur hereafter. Instead, I'm going to simply state the month and the year.

I have also decided that, because I'm now working more and have more classes to get through, instead of making one large chapter with all the content that I originally had planned and told you all about at the end of the previous chapter, I am going to be splitting it all up into smaller chapters, which should let me update more often and let me feel like I've accomplished something when it comes to this story.

Also, for anyone interested in a more direct Halo/Star Wars/Miscellaneous crossover, I recommend you check out **Bien-128**snew story, **Halo: The Intergalactic Wars**, found under the Halo archive, rated M. It makes for a good read.

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**March, 2187**

**Orbit Of New Caprica**

**Inside The Ionic Nebula**

In the three months since they had settled on this gods-damned world, they had achieved nothing more than the creation of an over-glorified tent city. At now-President Gaius Baltars insistence, Admiral William Adama had allowed the Colonials to stop and settle down on the first habitable world they had come across since leaving the now-irradiated colonies.

Now, the _Columbia_-class Battlestar _Galactica_, the _Mercury_-class Battlestar _Pegasus _and a dozen smaller civilian vessels that had been retrofitted with some basic weapons hung in high orbit of the world dubbed New Caprica, maintaining their silent vigil, ever watchful for the return of the Cylons, the mechanical (and bio-mechanical) entities that had destroyed the Twelve Colonies Of Kobol and murdered more than thirty-five billion people in the process.

It had been months since the last Cylon attack, since the day a thermonuclear device had been activated onboard the _Cloud 9_, the luxury liner that had been home to nearly three thousand people at the time of its destruction.

Menacing in a way that few other ships could match, 1350 metre long, alligator-headed Galactica slowly - but gracefully - moved about, switching places with the much larger Pegasus, commanded by Admiral Adamas son, Commander Lee "Apollo" Adama, at the head of the small fleet. With its two long flight pods - hollow tubes upon which strike craft like the venerable Viper Mark II or the advanced Mark VII could make hasty landings - , four large engines arrayed at the rear in a square, dorsal and side-mounted auto cannons and the over-sized main rail guns, the Galactica, despite her age, was not to be taken lightly by any foe.

The Pegasus, retaining the same basic alligator-head and dual flight pod design, was 500 metres longer and nearly twice as broad, with double the armour, weapons and engines. It was the most advanced and powerful warship that the Colonies had ever employed, aside from the two prototype Trinity-class Battlestars and, of course, the Zeus-class Warstars, and was easily able to beat pretty much any ship in existence in a fair fight. Or so the Colonials believed.

Unfortunately for them, that belief was moments away from being shattered in an unheard of display of pyrotechnics and technological mastery that the Colonials had only ever seen in science fiction television or literature.

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_The cruiser dropped out of the swirling realm of slipspace, and instantly activated its weapon systems and shields. The occupants of the cruiser glared hungrily out the nearest view ports at the small group of ships that occupied the space above the large terrestrial world, eyes gleaming and mouths salivating at the prospect of finally finding real food._

_A quick scan of the ships revealed weak and horrendously outdated armaments made up of auto cannons, rail guns and a very small number of nuclear warheads. Further scanning revealed that the two largest ships had thickly armoured hides, but the armour was constructed of obsolete materials._

_Deciding to give their prey a chance to survive, the commander of the alien cruiser ordered shield strength to be reduced by half and that all gunnery positions were to avoid making direct hits on any of the ships. It had been a long time since these predators had last had interesting quarry._

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_**Galactica **_**Combat Information Centre**

"DRADIS contact," Petty Officer Anastasia "Dee" Dualla cried out the words that the bridge crew of the _Galactica_ had hoped never to heard again.

"Cylons?," Colonel Saul Tigh snapped a query, although he was fairly certain he already new the answer. At the same time, Admiral Adama delivered an order.

"Launch the alert Vipers," the grizzled-yet-venerable commander ordered, and down in the launch bays the _Galactica_'s scant dozen _Vipers_ were launched from magnetic rail systems into space. Across the void just a few dozen kilometres away, the action was repeated with the _Pegasus_' more numerous squadrons, Mark IIs and VIIs joining up in attack wings or taking defensive positions throughout the fleet.

"Uh, unknown, sir," Dee replied, looking a little perplexed as she watched the DRADIS screens. "The contact is fading in and out of visual range, I think it might be some kind of stealth ship."

"Could it be Colonial? A Stealthstar maybe?," Tigh asked, looking to his long-time friend and commander for the answer. Adama leaned forward slightly, looking at the sensor readouts of the new contact. It was much larger than any Stealthstar the Colonies had ever made to his knowledge. In fact, it was about the same size as a _Cygnus_-class Firestar, what had been the Colonial's mainstay heavy cruiser before the Cylon attack.

"Not a design I've ever seen," Adama finally answered, narrowing his eyes slightly. If it was new Cylon ship, that meant they had been found. If it wasn't, then Adama didn't know what it meant.

"Sirs," Dee called for Adama and Tighs attention. As one, the two older men turned to face her. "Lieutenant Katraine reports some kind of visual distortion from the ship, bright red lights coming from what look like gun ports."

Adama frowned and shared a look between himself and Tigh, then returned his attention back to Dee.

"Order the _Pegasus_ to lock-on to the ship with its main guns and prepare to destroy it if it looks like it's going to attack," Adama said, then turned to Lieutenant Felix Gaeta.

"Order our gunnery crews to do the same, if you please Mr. Gaeta."

"Yes, sir," Gaeta replied, then set about delivering his orders.

Dee gasped as, just as she finished relaying the Admirals orders, one of the smaller Colonial ships disappeared from the DRADIS display and the "Kat" Katraine reported the ship had fired a weapon unlike any she had seen before.

"Sir, the unknown ship has opened fire and destroyed _Majestic Wonder_!," she reported to her CO. Adamas head snapped around at the report, then swivelled back to Gaeta and gave the order.

"All gunnery teams, open fire."

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**Bridge of UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser **_**Magnus**_

The _Magnus _dropped out of hyperspace less than ten seconds after the _Majestic Wonder _was destroyed, all hands at battle stations and weapons already seeking a lock on the unknown ship that was trading fire with the battle cruiser and battleship analogues of the human fleet.

"Tactical, maximum zoom on that ship," Burrows ordered, and immediately the holographic representation of the system narrowed down to show an image of the alien warship. Burrows, and indeed the entire bridge crew, were repulsed by what they saw. The ship was about a kilometre long, shaped like some massive locust that had had its legs ripped off, the hull bulbous and uneven. But it wasn't the design that had the crew of the Magnus grimacing. It was what decorated it.

The entire outer hull was covered in corpses, nearly all of them of unrecognisable species, but a good number of human skeletal remains hung from the ship like some kind of grisly trophy. A goodly portion of the 'decorations' appeared to be fairly fresh, although it was difficult to tell because the extreme cold and airless environment of space killed any bacteria that might have sped up the rate of decay.

Burrows continued to watch as the two human ships pummelled the alien vessel with projectiles, saw the tell-tale flicker of an energy barrier, watched as the ship fired some kind of energy weapon that emitted a bright green glow. Saw the grazing impact on the battleship analogue and noticed that they had no shields. If the Magnus didn't enter the fight quickly, it would an entirely one-sided slaughter.

"Firing solution for the Ion Cannon ready, sir," Siobhan reported. The Commander narrowed his eyes slightly, then nodded. That was all Siobhan needed; control of the Ion Cannon and the defence network had been slaved to her.

Outside the _Magnus_, the powerful dual-barrelled Ion Cannon mounted dorsally two hundred metres from the bridge fired at the distant alien ship, twin beams of pulsating negatively charged ions opening a window in the enemy ships under-strength shields and stripping away layers of gore, armour and hull plating. The beams punched deep into the ship, nearly half way through the six hundred metre breadth of it, breaching dozens of decks and leaving them open to space.

Suddenly the alien ship changed its priorities; no longer did it play with the human vessels, now it turned its attention to the much bigger threat that the Magnus represented, bringing its shields to full strength and lifting the ban on direct hits that its commander had ordered.

"Energy readings increasing from the alien ship, sir," Mercer reported, frowning at the tactical display. The ship was putting out more power now than a _Warhammer_-class battlecruiser. The Lt. suddenly hoped they had not bitten off more than they could chew in taking it on.

As the range rapidly decreased, the _Magnus_' now fully repaired shield systems repelled a trio of powerful energy blasts that set alarms blaring across the stealth cruiser and knocked many people off their feet.

"Missile bays, stand by for an Alpha Strike, full spread across the enemy's shields," Burrows grunted, straightening himself out in his command chair. "Shield status?"

"Another salvo like that and they'll be down, I can't say how well our armour will stand up to whatever those weapons are. With hull integrity still only in the 80 percentile, I wouldn't suggest we let ourselves get into a position to find out," Siobhan dutifully reported, her holographic image flickering as the _Magnus_' rail guns opened up at their extreme range.

"Agreed," Burrows nodded, then braced himself as another energy round slammed against the dorsal shields barely sixty metres from the bridge. Out at the fore of the ship, seven plumes of smoke flared to a short-lived life, propelling their payloads to a rendezvous with the enemy.

"Missiles away, sir," Mercer reported, a thin trickle of blood making its way down his cheek from his forehead, to pool in the collar of his combat shirt. Although the missiles were by far the longest ranged weapons the _Magnus_ carried, the command staff had no idea the kind of point defences the alien ship might have, so it was decided t close the distance to standard weapons range before firing them.

Across the void, the missiles soared, silently closing in on their target, when suddenly two of them flashed out of existence, their nuclear payloads inert, as the aliens CIWS systems engaged them. Rapid fire, razor thin blades of light sliced through another three missiles before the final two impacted against the cruisers shields, the nuclear flare blinding for a moment.

When the glare finally faded away and the sensor output returned to normal after the interference such a large release of radiation caused, the _Magnus_' crew was treated to the sight of dozens of tiny objects appearing all around the alien cruiser. It didn't take long Siobhan to identify them.

"Fighter craft, sir. Some are heading towards the human group, some are coming for us," Siobhan stated. "Recommend we launch our _Scorpions_ to run interference for us, tactical defence load outs."

The modular design of the IC-109 _Scorpion _Interceptor allowed for a variety of tactical load outs; the removal of the shield generator to allow room for anti-ship missiles, replacing the generator of an ACSIS generator, or even switching the twin laser cannons for plasma cannons. A tactical defence load out meant that the fighters would empty one of their missile bays, leaving the craft with six anti-fighter missiles, and put an extra shield generator in place of the other six missiles, thus increasing the protection their shields provided two-fold. Such modifications could be made in under a minute provided there was a skilled and experienced deck crew on hand.

The fighters would also stay close to their mother ship, never venturing beyond the range of the _Magnus_' Laser Net defence grid.

The grid opened up, the rapid fire laser pulses looking more like a continuous stream of energy, virtue of the sixty-eight thousand round per minute firing rate of each of the cannons, and immediately several of the enemy's bizarre fighters were clipped, one of them destroyed outright.

The enemy fighters looked like some kind of demented cross-breed of an insect and a lizard, with a double-domed cockpit that reminded the crew of the _Magnus_ of a fly's head, and an elongated tail that trailed behind the main body of the craft a good five metres. As they drew in closer, taking few casualties thanks to the surprising manoeuvrability of the awkward looking craft, and the apparently heavy shields and armour each one sported, the reason for the tails became apparent.

The tails swung up and over the craft until the very tip was above the cockpit of each fighter, and from the end of each tail, a glob of superheated gas-from plasma sprang forth, flying across the darkness of space and lighting up the area around the _Magnus_ as her port shields took a handful of hits, the majority of the shots going wide.

The _Magnus_' fighter wing finally launched, in time to distract the now-passing alien strike craft from making another run on her. As the _Scorpions_ diverted the attention of the bizarre aliens, the _Magnus_' Ion Cannon fired for a second time, this time in conjunction with a broadside delivered from the port weapons batteries.

The alien cruisers shields gave out under the bombardment, and the hull took a small number of rail gun rounds and laser bursts before the ship returned fire, this time firing a bright orange-red bolt of unidentified energy that completely stripped away the _Magnus_' shields and scorched the hull plating. Then the ship did something completely unexpected.

The two opposing cruisers were barely three hundred kilometres from one another, practically spitting distance considering the vastness of the space around them, when the alien ship launched several dozen torpedoes, only six or seven of which were shot down before impact. Everyone onboard the smaller human ship held their breath, waiting to be killed in a bright flash of light and brief searing pain.

Only these torpedoes didn't detonate on impact; they burrowed through the _Magnus_' armour and just sat there for a moment, before the armoured heads of the torpedoes burst open and disgorged six alien creatures apiece. The _Magnus_ had been boarded.

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**Lt. Luanne Katraine's Mark II **_**Viper**_

Lieutenant Luanne "Kat" Katraine was in a state of shock and awe. For centuries, she new, the Colonials had fervently searched the stars for signs of alien life forms. Having found none, it was widely believed that humans were the only intelligent life in the galaxy, Cylons notwithstanding.

Now, however, she was bearing witness to _two completely different_ ships grinding each other to stardust, hurling a mix of missiles, projectiles and something else at one another with great relish. So overawed was she that she very nearly missed the textual orders her Mark IIs online computer received from _Galactica_ Actual.

_All _Viper_ squadrons_, it read in glowing green letters. _Form up into attack wings and support Unknown 2, anti-fighter defence and attack runs on Unknown 1 authorized_.

Kat drew in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and blew it out slowly. To say that she was nervous would be an understatement of epic proportions; if the _Vipers_ were to help out the second ship, it meant that the Colonials might actually gain some allies. On the other hand, after the insect-like ship was destroyed, then the one shaped like some kind of sea creature could well turn on them and finish the job the first ship had started.

Even as she thought about it, though, she was forming up into an attack formation with the other tri-winged fighters without even thinking about it, the long, thin noses of just over two dozen Colonial fighters, some more than forty years old and dating back to the First Cylon War, others barely two years old and the peak of Colonial strike craft technology.

Kat goosed the throttle, her _Viper_ near the very front of the charge, and wished not for the first time that Captain Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, ace pilot of the _Galactica_'s fighter wings, had not chosen to colonise New Caprica with her new husband, Samuel Anders, and had instead stayed with the majority of the other pilots. Though Kat would never admit it to anyone, Thrace was the best pilot in the Colonial fleet, not something altogether that difficult to accomplish considering there were only about 30 qualified _Viper_ pilots left in existence.

As she neared the two small ships, Kat noticed that the smaller of the two had finally launched fighters of its own to combat the large, bizarre shapes that the insectoid ship had launched. These fighters were about the same size as a _Viper_, but had an A frame shape, twin engines at the rear, cockpit roughly centre and what Kat assumed to be weapons right at the front.

She got all that from a spilt second of seeing one, because by the time she was close enough too see them in such detail, she was close enough to begin engaging the much larger, uglier alien craft. Kat grit her teeth as she pulled her Mark II into a sharp 15 gee turn, punishing herself in order to swing in behind one of the surprisingly agile double-cockpit fighters.

Grinning in triumph as she finally got a clean shot, she depressed the firing stud on her control yoke, sending a stream of .50 calibre Kinetic Energy rounds into the flank of the craft. The grin disappeared shortly after, as she watched the golden tracer rounds bounce off of an invisible barrier a metre from impacting on the things hull, and before she knew it, the tables were turned.

She pulled up hard and reversed her throttle, spinning the _Viper_ around so that she was now flying in the opposite direction upside down relative to the ship she was helping to defend, the Ugly behind her wrenching around and sending bolts of coherent plasma energy (not that she knew what it was at the time) streaking after her.

The shots were poorly aimed, but if they came within ten or fifteen metres of her fighter, the DRADIS display flickered from some unknown interference. A bolt blew past her cockpit, and instinctively she ducked and yanked the control yoke in the opposite direction, nearly running into a wall of fire and pulling up just in time to avoid being fried alive.

One of the A-winged fighters flew past her, twin front-mounted cannons stitching fire across the side of another of the Uglies, destroying the larger ship, and then it was out of sight as she swung the _Viper_ around again to try and spook her pursuer off and give herself some time to figure out a decent strategy to deal with the apparently nigh-invincible enemy fighters.

The Ugly that had been chasing her seemed to hang in mid-space, not moving, although it was in fact speeding towards her at considerable speed, when it was speared by a stream of fluorescent green light, the invisible barrier disappearing in a flash of blue light and the ship itself was engulfed in orange flames as it was cut down by what passed for point defences on the smaller alien ship.

It gave her barely a moments respite, though, because almost as soon as the small explosion suffocated, another alien ship took it upon itself to attack her. More than a little intimidated, Kat goosed the throttle, moving away from the rapidly encroaching fighter. After getting a little distance between herself and the Ugly, she spin the _Viper_ around and hit the reverse throttle, pushing the pedal all the way down.

Now travelling backwards at less than half the speed the Mark II was capable of at full forward thrust, Kat pinned her cross-hairs to the Ugly and again depressed the firing stud, this time not content with firing a short burst. Hundreds of KEW round hammered the invisible shield down and chipped away at the Uglies armour, many if them penetrating the twin cockpits and killing the pilots.

Laughing triumphantly at her first kill of the day, Kat twirled her fighter around and began moving away from the thick of the fighter to catch a breather. She didn't see the incoming Ugly until the last moment, and by then it was too late. Pulling violently to the left on the control yoke, Kat cursed as she was blindsided by the alien craft, thanking the Gods that she wasn't hit.

As she tried to manoeuvre herself around to return fire, another of the A-winged fighters-or was it the same one as before?- flashed past her cockpit, a pair of missiles streaking out from its underbelly and striking the Ugly in the side, shearing off its tail and sending it spinning uncontrollably through space.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kat wiggled her wings in thanks to the other pilot, getting the same in return. Then the other pilot pulled his craft in close to hers and offered a near perfect simile of a standard Colonial salute. That was surprising enough to Kat, but what really made her jaw drop was that, as the craft came closer, she realised she could make out its pilot, and he looked suspiciously human.

One thing and one thing only came to her mind in that instant.

_The Thirteenth Tribe! We've found them!_

Not entirely true, as it was in fact they who found the Colonials, but it was logical that she would think that these humans were of the fabled Thirteenth Tribe, the final colony of Kobol.

_We're saved. All of us, safe…_

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_**Magnus **_**Armoury Six-B**

Sergeant Major James Allen had not expected to be called into combat aboard the _Magnus _herself, assuming that the point defences could deal with any would-be boarding parties, unless of course these creatures had teleporting technology like the current bad guys back home did.

That was why, he told himself, he was charging through corridor after corridor headed for the nearest armoury to requisition some armour and a more potent weapon than the plasma pistol normally clipped to his right thigh, now held firmly in his hands.

One of the security drones blew past him, the mechanical voice of the little machine informing him that it was headed to a breach to deal with intruders and requesting assistance, before it noted that he was practically unarmed and was not wearing combat armour, at which point it ignored him and continued on its way, its domed head shining dully in the dim combat lighting of the corridor and its twin anti-personnel plasma cannons tracking around.

With a distracted grunt of acknowledgement for the machines passing, Allen turned the corner, finally coming within sight of the armoury. Grinning triumphantly, he double his pace crossing the sixty or so metres in just over four seconds. He didn't even get a chance to press his palm against the wall mounted reader to confirm his security clearance to the room before two large creatures round the other end of the corridor.

Ducking quickly into the shallow recess the door to the armoury was set into, Allen chewed his lip lightly and prayed to whatever deities might be listening that he hadn't been spotted, as he would likely be no match for them without armour, or a better weapon at least. Judging by the fact that he wasn't being shot at he assumed his prayers had been answered. He slowly edged his head around the corner, exposing only enough of himself to be able to see the aliens.

He grimaced slightly as he took in their appearance. Both were roughly seven or eight feet tall, as far as he could tell, and were almost nauseatingly thin, like people who had not eaten a half way decent meal in months. Their eyes extended from their heads on turret mounts, not unlike a chameleon back on Earth, their bodies covered in what looked like a cross between insect-like chitinous natural armour and more lizard-like scales.

Each carried wicked looking weapons in their clawed hands, some kind of rifle. It didn't seem like a very ergonomic design, with a long barrel and odd, bulbous shapes protruding from both sides of the weapon near the shoulder stock. Of course, ergonomics weren't really his thing, and judging by the radically different physiology between humans and the very human-like Tau, it would make sense that their weapons would seem uncomfortable to him.

The aliens were distracted, chattering away at each other in an odd language that sounded like s cross between a cricket chirping and a frog croaking, with clicks and gurgles here and there for good measure. While they were distracted with each other, Allen moved his hand over the palm-reading access panel to the armoury, eyes still on the aliens, and gently pressed into it.

With a soft ping sound, the door opened and Allen inched his way inside, closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief as the door closed again, before leaning back against it and opening his eyes.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, eyes wide incredulously as he took in the room.

Somehow, in all the confusion and the sudden excitement of the creatures appearance, he had ended up in a supply room, on which, if his memory served right, was just four metres down the hall from his destination.

"Why me, Godamnit?"

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_The two warriors advanced slowly down the corridor, taking in their alien surroundings and arguing about who's fault it was that they had ended up so far away from the main boarding parties._

_As they moved, the taller of the two suddenly hissed a warning at the other and raised his weapon. With a series of clicks and whistles, the larger warrior told the smaller that it had heard something, then the two began licking at the air cautiously._

_After a moment or two, they each picked up the familiar - and mouth-watering - scent of food, close by. Hurrying their pace a little, the two now-silent warriors advanced past a strangely shaped door, moving down the corridor several metres, before coming to a stop in front of another of the too-small rectangular doors._

_From the other side of the door, their acute hearing picked up food-speak. Both fairly fluent in food-speak - the warrior-caste leaders demanded such, as it mad warriors more effective at combating the food's attempts at tactics and strategy - they understood the words being spoken, although not necessarily the meaning behind them._

"Why me, Godamnit?"

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Seconds after speaking, Allen regretted it, for almost as soon as the words left his mouth, their came a loud thudding sound from the other side of the door.

_Where's a security drone when you need one?_, he thought to himself as he backed a way from the door, trying to find some kind of cover in the small room. There was none. Without any armour or cover of any kind, Allen would likely be cut down the moment the creatures on the other side found a way to get the door open.

There was a loud chatter from the other side of the door, somewhat muffled by the three inches of Titanium, then pulsing screech and the area around the doors hinges began glowing red hot; they were blowing out the hinges.

With a final screech, the sound stopped, and the room fell silent for the moment. Then the door creaked, and fell away from its hinges, revealing the two aliens that Allen had seen in the corridor, with what appeared to be a triumphant grin on their hideously ugly faces.

Allen stood still, waiting for them to cut him down in a hail of plasma fire - or whatever it was those weapons used for ammunition - but the expected pain never came. Instead, the aliens slung their weapons and began to chatter excitedly among themselves, practically ignoring him.

The aliens were barely four feet away, and seemed to be arguing intently about what to do with him. Seeing his chance, Allen raised his plasma pistol, hoping to kill at least one of the aliens before they would be able to react. The weapon swung up from his side, making it to about chest height, before the closer of the two aliens shrieked, spun to face him and snatched at the pistol.

Although the creature wasn't able to take the weapon from him, Allen still wasn't able to keep a grip on it. The weapon discharged before clattering to the floor, the super-hot plasma splashing into the aliens left knee cap, vaporising it instantly.

With another shriek - this one of pain and surprise - the alien toppled over backwards, cracking its head hard against the melted door jamb behind it. The bottom half of its left leg stayed upright, teetering slightly from side-to-side, before flopping down on its side.

Allen snapped his head up from the now-unconscious alien, staring wide-eyed at the still-standing one, the creature returning his gaze evenly. It was during this short-lived staring match that Allen noticed that the creatures eyes were just as unusual as the rest of it.

Small and turreted, like a lizards, but bulbous and multi-faceted, more like an insects, and for the first time, Allen realised that such a hybrid _had_ to be impossible in nature.

_Some kind of super-soldier or something?_, he thought. He had no more time to contemplate further, however, because at that moment the alien let out an ear-piercing screech and charged, covering the short distance between itself and the human quickly.

A taloned hand swung at Allen's face, and he pulled his head back fast enough to avoid having it ripped from his shoulders, but not quite fast enough to avoid all of the claws; three of the six talons raked across his face, opening two shallow cuts across his forehead and a much deeper one just below his right eye.

Roaring in pain, Allen staggered back, then, regaining his bearings, he dropped low and lashed out with his right leg, catching the alien behind the knee. Startled, it fell on its back. Screeching again, it kicked out viciously, striking Allen in the shoulder and slamming him back into the shelves at the end of the small room.

As various cleaning agents and hull sealants, among other things, rained down around the dazed Sergeant Major, the alien launched itself off its back at him, claws extended and ready to rip him apart.

Allen raised his hands, catching both of the aliens wrists in a vice grip and just barely stopping the forward momentum by pulling his out to the sides and deflecting the talons away from his face. Heaving with all his augmented might, Allen pushed the creature back slightly, arms shaking with the effort. The creature may have looked half-starved, but it was damn strong.

Hissing gibberish at him, the alien redoubled its efforts, pushing down hard and slowly forcing those taloned hands down at the human again. Allen gasped at the effort he was putting into keeping it at bay, feeling his strength slowly draining away.

Desperately, Allen changed tactics; he wrenched the aliens right wrist violently to the left, twisting hard until he heard a loud _pop!_ Shrieking in agony as its wrist snapped, the creature let up its attack and reared back away from the prone Spectre.

Allen fumbled blindly, his eyes filled with his own blood from the cuts on his forehead, for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. His hand came to rest on what felt like an aerosol can of some kind. Seeing the alien fumbling to get at its wicked-looking energy rifle, Allen raised the can and sprayed, not caring what was in it, just trying to buy himself some more time.

A thin stream of dark grey fluid sprayed from the nozzle, splashing against the creatures left leg and hardening in an instant, the fluids mass increasing ten-fold as it dried. Allen grinned to himself as he realised what he'd grabbed.

It was Instacrete, a substance used to quickly erect barricades and walls when establishing a forward base. A single 600 millilitre can could create a wall two feet thick, four feet high and twenty feet long if used right. It also made a pretty damn good hull sealant, able to temporarily replace armour plating. In fact, most of the Magnus' hull was patched up with it while the Nano-Fabricators worked overtime churning out replacement armour.

The alien clawed at the Instacrete around its leg, trying in vain to loosen the super-strong slab of the substance that its leg was now encased in. Standing slowly, Allen raised the can to level with its face, smirked, and sprayed.

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**Lt. Luanne Katraine's Mark II **_**Viper**_

Shortly after her revelation that the occupants of the smaller, aquatic-like ship were human, Kat felt a bolt of fear shoot down her spine as she realised that this could all be some kind of elaborate hoax set up by the Cylons in an attempt to make the Battlestars flee and leave the Colonials on New Caprica defenceless.

Since that moment, she had been treating the human-looking pilot of the A-framed fighter that had become her unofficial wing-man with considerable suspicion. Never mind the fact that the person had saved her life more times in the last half-hour than anyone in the remaining Colonial Navy ever had.

As far as Kat could tell from the fleeting few seconds she was ever flying in a straight line and not being shot at, it looked as though the fighting was dying down, although she wasn't sure what impact the _Vipers_ had had on the overall outcome of the battle, considering that most of the Colonial pilots had spent more time dodging fire and trying to survive than anything else.

_I suppose_, she thought as she swung her Viper around to take in the view of the two alien ships sitting perfectly still, side-by-side and no longer firing at each other, _that if nothing else, we distracted the _Uglies_ long enough for the other pilots to deal with them._

There were only about a half-dozen Uglies left now, and they were all turning tail - literally, given the bizarre design of the craft - and fleeing for the relative safety of the larger alien ships landing bays. A pulse of blood-red light flashed past her cockpit, getting her attention.

As the Vipers and the pilots of the A-framed fighters had not yet figured the correct radio-frequency with which to communicate with each other - assuming the other pilots even used radios - they had turned to more unorthodox methods of communication.

Her wing-man had her attention now, and he drew in close to her fighter and began making hand signals to her. She didn't understand it all, but she got the gist of it: the pilot was asking for help in maintaining a Combat Space Patrol around his mother ship.

With a curt nod and a waggle of her wings, Kat agreed to the proposition and began moving the Viper in closer to the ship, wondering what was going on inside and knowing that, for now, she had no choice but to trust her erstwhile colleague.

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_**Magnus**_ **Launch Bay Alpha**

With a whir of servo-motors and hydraulics, the XBS-87 Battlesuit thundered across the launch bays 'ground' floor, sporadic bursts of enemy fire erupting across its frontal shields in a spectacular display of light, sending ripples across them that looked so much like someone had just tossed a thousand tiny pebbles into a pond.

The lumbering four metre tall battlesuit took it all in stride, easily shrugging off the small arms fire being directed at it - it was, after all, designed to take on anything from infantry, to tanks, to fighter craft - its twin shoulder-mounted rocket launchers firing anti-personnel fragmentation rockets in a slow-but-methodical volley.

The rotary plasma cannon mounted on its right arm attachment squealed its high-pitched whine, throwing out bright green globs of super-hot plasma and cutting a swathe through the bizarre enemy troops.

Within the bulky, man-shaped walking tank, the pilot grinned maniacally as the darker-than-usual launch bay was lit up by the impressive firepower he was bringing to bear on his enemies. One of the odd beings leaped screaming from its cover, what looked like some kind of grenade clenched in its claws, only to be cut in half in mid-air by a spray of plasma from the battle suit.

The bottom half of the alien dropped instantly to the floor, the top half, still clutching the grenade, sailed past the battlesuits shoulder and thumped to the ground several metres away, the grenade going off in a flash of light and sound, vaporising the torso instantly but failing to hurt any of the human defenders.

"Come on, bitches, time to take your medicine!," shouted the crazed battlesuit pilot, his voice amplified over the external speakers of his unit. Off to the suits right, seven Marines were crouched low behind a dolly cart filled with spare armour plates, destined to be a part of the _Magnus_' new hull. They were carrying a mix of weapons, plasma and laser rifles, rail guns, slug throwers, one even held a flame thrower clenched in his power armours gauntlets.

"Christ on a bike, these fuckers just don't give up!," a Marine Corporal named Markus Brannon cried out as molten globs of metal splashed against his helmet, courtesy of the rapidly disintegrating dolly. Despite the amount of fire being directed their way, the armour plates on the dolly weren't even warm yet.

"Amen to that," Private Jonas Cain grumbled, standing up for a moment to loose of a volley of rail gun rounds, before dropping back behind cover with a loud _whoop_ of joy. "I got one of the bastards!"

He received a pat on the back from several of his friends at that. As he had only been out of Basic for about two months, this was his first taste of real combat, and so far, he had performed well.

_Better than expected, in any case_, thought Brannon, leaning around the corner of the dolly and sending a plasma burst back at the enemy position, the heat of the weapons discharge felt even through his gauntlets. Plasma guns weren't the most reliable weapons in prolonged engagements, and tended to overheat if they were forced to fire more than eighty or ninety times in one minute, and his had been firing almost non-stop for fifteen minutes straight.

For sheer stopping power, though, they couldn't be beat, as the only real defence against plasma weapons was energy shields, and even they tended not to last overly long.

Just as he was pulling his head back around the corner, however he saw something interesting. The aliens were leaping over whatever cover they had had and were now charging madly towards the Marines position.

"Kamikazes! Fall back!," Brannon shouted, immediately following his own advice and running off in the opposite direction, the rest of the Marines following. They didn't get far before they realised they'd been fool. There were a dozen or so more aliens charging at them from the direction they had been fleeing in, so now they were caught out in the open, with two dozen aliens approaching from behind and another dozen from the front.

Stopping where he stood, Brannon raised his plasma rifle and let loose a burst, the glowing orb of energy vaporising the head of one of the aliens in the frontal pack. Behind him, he heard the other Marines doing the same, some shooting at the pack that Brannon was firing at, the rest going for their original opponents.

Brannon slew two more aliens, another two being shredded by rail gun fire before the smaller group was upon them, and then his world became a dervish of flailing limbs and weapons used as clubs. He took a vicious blow to the head, snapping him around to face the other direction and cracking the rail-resistant visor.

Blurry objects danced in front of his eyes as he toppled sideways under another blow, before brilliant golden light shot out from an unseen place and scoured the still approaching larger group. His vision cleared as he dropped the plasma gun and grabbed the mono-molecular combat knife from its sheath at the base of his spine, and he saw that it was the Marine with the flamer, and he had just killed half the alien group.

Brannon spun about, slashing wide with his blade and cutting a wide gash in the stomach of one of his assailants, dark green ichor pumping from the deep wound, splashing across the front of his armour. He kicked the alien hard in the stomach, hearing a loud crunch as his boot caved in the chitinous carapace that acted as a natural armour for the things, then turned his attention to another.

For the next few minutes - or maybe hours - Brannon's life was all about the blade, about quenching its insatiable thirst for the blood of the evil, about trying to survive against overwhelming odds. It was cut abruptly short, however, when a smaller, but much more bulky version of the aliens he had seen so far smashed a huge fist - knuckles covered in sharp, bony protrusions - into his side, denting an puncturing the armour.

Crying out in pain as his flesh was pulped and pierced, blood squirting out in obscene amounts, Brannon dropped to his knees, tears of terrible pain running sown his cheeks. At twenty-three years old, this was not how he'd expected, or wanted, to die. He'd wanted to be one of those old war-heroes, who died in bed, surrounded by loved ones.

Instead, he was going to be killed by a big, brutish alien aboard a SOCOM stealth ship in the middle of unknown space, and it was highly likely that his family would never even know what happened to him. Even as he made peace with his death, or what peace could, anyway, he closed his eyes and waited for the killing blow. Waited. And waited.

Cracking his eyes open, he was treated to the sight of what was left of his would-be killer being ground to past under the enormous feet of the XBS-87. Grinning weakly at his saviour, the last thing Brannon saw before passing out was another of the aliens being flung several metres across the room by the battlesuit.

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_**Magnus **_**Bridge**

Even as fighting continued all over the _Magnus_, Commander Burrows was faced with another dilemma. The alien ship appeared to have lost power and was now slowly drifting to wards the planet. Likewise the _Magnus_ was no longer under power, at least not to the engines. Their shields were slowly regenerating and they could still fire weapons, but their main engines had been damaged into the fighting.

A thin haze of smoke drifted across the bridge, before being sucked up by the air recyclers, as Burrows frowned at the display screen. Although the _Magnus_ had undoubtedly saved the other human ships from destruction, she was now even more badly damaged than before and they had lost dozens of crew members and Marines, not counting the end results of the aliens boarding action just yet as they were still being fended off,

And despite the fact that the humans had sent fighters to the _Magnus_' aid, he had no way to be sure of their intent now that the alien ship was no longer a viable threat, and the _Magnus_ was in no shape to keep fighting. At the very least, it would be another three or four days before they would be hyper-capable again, given the damage to the hull. On the plus side, they could speed up hull repairs considerably now that they had a new source of plating, namely the alien ship.

All they had to do was rid the ship of its grisly trophies and they were good to go.

"Have you figured out a way to contact those ships yet, Siobhan?," Burrows side, wiping sweat off his brow.

"Yes, sir. You're not going to believe this, they actually use slower-than-light radio communications. Incredible to think that a society advanced enough to create such large ships, and, if I understand the sensor readouts correctly, even artificial gravity, would such an ancient, archaic means of communication," Siobhan answered, her oversized intellect coming to the fore as she prattled on about the paradoxical nature of Colonial technology.

"It's only been eighty or so years since we discovered subspace communications, Siobhan. Can you hail them please?," Burrows asked. Siobhan let out a huff, clearly miffed that the Commander would not find such a thing interesting, but nodded and affirmed his request anyway.

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_**Galactica**_** Combat Information Centre**

Aboard the _Galactica'_s version of a bridge, the crew were all ears as a crackly transmission came across their radio frequency. A quick check by Lt. Gaeta told him that the transmission was directed across all frequencies and was being picked up by all of the Colonial ships.

"_Attention unknown fleet_," a deep, baritone human voice stated in a language so very similar to Colonial Standard that there were virtually no differences, aside from the unknown accent. "_This is Commander Albert Burrows of the UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser _Magnus_, requesting assistance. We have sustained significant damage to all sectors of the ship and are in the process of fighting off hostile boarding parties."_

The crew exchanged confused looks, and Adama and Tigh looked each other evenly in the eye. Neither had ever heard of the 'UNSC', but 'SOCOM', assuming it meant the same thing to these people, was the term used to describe Special Operations Command. Not really knowing what to do, neither of them said anything in return to the _Magnus_' plea for help.

"What should we do?," Adama spoke softly to his Executive Officer. Tigh looked like he'd rather just turn the battlestars guns on the _Magnus_' and blow it way just to be on the safe side, but given the fact that the much smaller ship had just defeated an enemy vessel that neither of the battlestars had even been able to scratch, and also that it had probably saved the entire Colonial Remnant from destruction in doing so, he kept that opinion to himself.

"Frak it," the man growled, "they pulled our asses out of the fire, I say we return the favour."

Adama stared evenly at his old friend, silent and contemplating. He had, of course, considered the same things that Tigh had, and had also come to the same conclusion.

"Dee," Adama called, the young woman perking up instantly at the sound of her name being called. "Return their hail, give me a direct line to this Burrows character."

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A/N: That's it for now. As you can see, this chapter alone is a good 8000 words long, so if I had added in all the things I said I would at the end of the last chapter, it probably would have been longer than every other chapter combined. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but it still would have been pretty damn long.

Don't worry though, all those other things are coming, they'll just be more spread out than I'd originally planned.

The next chapter will deal with the interrogation of Selmak, the scouting party sent to P3Y-737, and (hopefully) should see the first appearance of the Covenant and the Asgard.

As Matthew Reilly, author of some truly phenomenal books, says "Feedback is the lifeblood of any story" and "Never underestimate the power of encouragement", so get crackin' on those reviews, people. J


	9. Dark Days Ahead

Disclaimer: Given that I've put the same disclaimer in front of every chapter, I think you all get the idea by now.

**To That Tekka Guy: **Thanks for the review. I will admit I wasn't overly confident that this story would turn out as well as it has so far.

Part of the reason why I started writing this is because of the same reason you weren't hopeful that this would be any good, I got frustrated at not being able to find any good fics with a similar setting to this.

**To ariel storm cloud: **Thank you.

**To Gatemaster: **Thanks. Glad to see some of the more jaded readers on this site seem to be enjoying the fruits of my labour.

**To UNSC ODST: **Thank you for your continuing support. Glad you liked the bit with the Instacrete, I was trying to think of a unique way of getting rid of the aliens when it just suddenly came to me out of nowhere. Should have Star Wars in the story soon, I hope. Asgard either next chapter or the one after.

**To He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Lame:** Seriously awesome reviews. Very informative and long enough to be stories themselves, lol. Keep 'em comin'. And yes, there will still be some Babylon 5 elements in here, but I'm still thinking of a feasible way of bringing in the Minbari, Shadows/Vorlons and maybe some of the younger races (Abbai/Brakiri/Hyach etc).

**To Life of Nemo: **Exactly what I was going for. I wanted Earth to be able to defend themselves and also take the fight to the Goa'uld, but I also didn't want them to just crush the Goa'uld underfoot with huge numbers or outrageous tech. There's some more on the Tok'ra in this chapter, although not much, and I'll be trickling in more info as the story progresses.

As for the race on Mars, you'll just have to wait and see. About the Asgard/ Replicator war. Hasn't happened (yet) in this timeline, hence why the Asgard are still around. They haven't found a 'cure' to their stagnating genes yet, not sure if they will either, but they have been able to slow it down considerably more so than in the series.

**To heyster1: **Yeah, I think I read that story too, damned if I can remember the name of it though, will have to see if I can find it again. Don't worry, I have no intentions of letting this story die.

**To WBH21C: **Thanks again for your support.

Thanks again to you all, I'll try and keep the story consistently entertaining, and should hopefully have a new chapter ready soon. Also, I've been thinking about writing a prequel to this that deals with the Alkaid Wars and with Anubis' rise to power while the System Lords are dealing with the remainder of the Wraith fleet I mentioned, so let me know what you think about that and if I get a good enough response I'll start planning it out.

Once more, I must recommend reading **Halo: The Intergalactic Wars** by **Bien-128**, its turning into a really great story and I'd hate for him to discontinue it because he isn't getting enough reviews. Seriously, check it out, you won't regret it.

There is a forum on this story where you can talk about it, and help give me ideas and what-not, its been up for awhile, I just forgot to let people know, so take a look at that if you're interest. Its under the Misc/TV X-Overs forums section.

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**March, 2187**

**Magna Carne (AKA 'First City'), Capital of Eden Prime**

**Remains of **_**Carly's Café **_

Hunkered down in what was left of a café he had frequented on his morning commute to work, Michael Cortez clutched his pilfered LAR-90 laser rifle and stared wide-eyed out at the streets, ever on the look-out for danger. K'Ton shuffled around behind him, in a fitful sleep, and the soft sounds of the half-dozen civilians huddled together upstairs, terrified, reached his ears.

One of the three Marines remaining from his original guard detail of eight muttered quietly to himself as he cleaned his rail gun, a frown etched into his grizzled features. They had made it barely two kilometres from Assaultech HQ before being ambushed by vanguard enemy units, and had travelled perhaps another kilometre before coming across two young women, an elderly man, a teenager and twin girls who looked to be about eight or nine years old.

They had lost Peter Smidts along the way, the man being crushed to death under falling debris while he tried to help a pregnant woman navigate the rubble. Cortez was saddened by the loss of his old friend, having shed a few tears, but the pressing matter of the groups survival had forced him to suck it up and move on. He would have to mourn later.

He had found himself puzzled as to how so many people had been missed in the evacuation to the bunkers or the other cities. The Marine Corps and the Eden Planetary Defence Forces had been very thorough in their search for civilians that might have been left behind, and the only reason Cortez could think of that anyone at all was still in the city was if they'd _wanted_ to stay.

It wasn't unheard for people to decline evacuation, even going so far as to avoid military forces so as not to be forced to move on, but it was something Cortez had never understood. If your home is being invaded and you're most likely going to be killed in the fighting, why would you still want to stay?

His thoughts were cut short as he heard a sound he had been praying for since they'd been forced to hide out in the café nearly a day ago, having sat back and watched processions of enemy troops march past them. With the roar of its powerful hydro-fusion engine, a M41A6 MyrmidonMedium Tank rounded the corner some one hundred sixty metres away. The sight was a glorious one for Cortez, before he realized the PDF operated tank was moving in reverse.

With a thunderous crack, the mounted 90mm rail gun sent a hypervelocity slug _through_ the building it had retreated around, the tank then following up with a spray of laser fire from its anti-personnel cannon. How Cortez had missed the sounds of the tanks fighting before it got to where it was, he wasn't sure. It could have had something to do with the non-stop artillery shelling of enemy-occupied areas, or the screaming of over-head aircraft trading fire with one another, or even the distant sounds of small arms fire. Any one - or all - of those could have contributed to him missing the sound of the tank.

It didn't really matter, what mattered was that that tank was their way out of the city, assuming it survived the onslaught of enemy infantry. Cortez raised the rifle in his hands, eyes travelling down the length of the barrel to the fibre optic sight, resting the targeting reticule over the head of one of the Jaffa warriors, and was a hairs-breadth away from pulling the trigger when a gauntleted hand crashed down on the rifle, spoiling his aim.

"What the fuck do you thin you're doing?," the Marine Sergeant hissed, spittle flying from his lips as he bore down on Cortez. K'Ton snapped awake, and immediately upon seeing his friend in apparent trouble, raised the rail pistol he had taken from the corpse of a PDF trooper, aiming at the Sergeants back.

"If we can keep that tank from being destroyed or disabled, it'll be our ticket out of here," Cortez answered, staring daggers into the other mans face and waving away K'Ton. The Tau nodded, but continued aiming his weapon at the Sergeant. "Think about it, Sergeant. With that tank escorting us out, we'll have the firepower and mobility to cut through anything that tries to stop us. But if it gets overwhelmed and swarmed by those bastards now, we'll have lost our best chance of getting out of the city and to the mountain bunkers in one piece."

The Sergeant's youthful features contorted into a grimace as he relented. He too would rather make sure the tank survived so they could get a decent escort out of the city. The Light Strike Vehicle the Marines had arrived at Assaultech HQ in had suffered enough damage from debris during the two orbital bombardments of the city to make it un-driveable.

"Alright, fine," the Sergeant muttered, then spoke into his squad-link. "Carson, give that Myrmy some sniper cover, will ya?"

"What's your name, anyway?," Cortez asked, sighting along his rifle again. The Sergeant shuffled to the windowsill beside him, resting his rail gun on the sill and taking aim himself.

"Randy Peters," the other man answered gruffly. On the floor above, the Marine units sniper, a young, attractive mother-of-two named Sandy Carson, fired her specially designed RSS-66D, a rail gun with an elongated set of rails, a larger power pack, higher calibre rail spikes and a holographic digital scope capable of 180x zoom.

At the other end of the street, one of the charging Jaffa was beheaded by the rail spike, his head disappearing in a fine mist of blood and gore. Another warrior several metres behind the headless corpse had his arm ripped off at the elbow by the same round, less than a thousandth of a second later. Cortez fired a short burst, the laser burst melting through the thin armour and chest of another Jaffa.

"Mike Cortez," he offered to the Sergeant, watching as another Jaffa went down in a gout of blood from Carson's rifle fire. A particularly fanatic - or crazy - Jaffa charged the tank, screaming praises to his God, and leapt into the air, probably intending to board the tank to plant explosives or find a way to expose the crew. He hit the plasma-based energy shield and was hurled back, horribly burned, as the barrier deflected the kinetic energy of the mans body.

Rail gun and laser fire finally erupted from the cafés windows in earnest, the remaining Marines and two armed civilians, aside from Cortez, giving it all they had to cover the tank. The darkened late-noon street, overcast with the shadows of overhead storm clouds, strobed with flashes of red light as the Myrmidons anti-infantry cannon fired a stream of laser bolts into a small group of Jaffa caught out into the open, the main gun swivelling and firing into a parked Anti-grav Car, the round passing right through and tearing one of the cowering aliens in half right before the vehicles hydrogen fuel cells ruptured.

The explosion was bright enough that Cortez collapsed back into the building, yelling out and covering his eyes as his weapon clattered to the floor. An immense pressure wave blasted along the street, picking up various bits and pieces of detritus and hurling it in all directions. When the blinding light faded, the first thing Cortez saw out in the street was a bubble of opaque silver sitting where the tank had been: the shields had nearly overloaded, the tank having disappeared behind them as they reached critical energy levels.

As shields took damage and were not given time to regenerate properly, the accumulated energy being absorbed added itself to the energy of the shields, degrading the system and causing the visible spectra of the shields emitted energy to grow in intensity, until finally the shields overloaded and temporarily shorted out while the emitters cooled down and reset themselves.

Cortez knew that his department at Assaultech Industries had been working on new shield algorithms and generation techniques, hoping to find a way of turning a percentage the energy that was not deflected by shield systems into a way of regenerating the shields themselves, as well as better shield mitigation principles to allow for more energy to be deflected.

Blinking away the spots swimming before his eyes, Cortez shook his head as he knelt down to retrieve his weapon. A quick glance to the corner of the room confirmed what he already knew to be true; the three Black Boxes were undamaged. Returning his gaze to the street, he now noted that there was nothing left of the car, and a good size chunk of the building it had been parked in front of had been demolished, the edges of the Instacrete building seemingly melted from the intense heat.

Most of the Jaffa had either been killed in the blast or gone to ground, trying to avoid any further fire while they were still half blind and deaf. Cortez's own ears rang, and sideways look at K'Ton revealed that the smaller-in-stature Tau was suffering the after effects as well.

"What was that?," K'Ton asked shakily, squatting down and clutching his head as though afraid it would burst open at any moment. The Taus large eyes appeared dazed, and his bluish skin had taken on a green undertone; Tau were sensitive to certain sound spectrums, some of them being considered intensely erotic and others making Tau physically ill. Clearly, a close-range hydrogen explosion was one of the latter.

"Parked car got wiped out," Cortez replied. K'Ton did not say anything else; he was by now leaning forward, retching violently. He failed to expel any of the rations he'd consumed earlier, but several hacking coughs wracked his body afterwards.

"I think you should take it easy for -," Cortez's recommendation was cut off as the Sergeant beside him shouted a warning, then dropped to the ground on his back, a smoking crater in his armour breastplate. Instinct kicked in, and Cortez flung himself down beside Peters, the other man still alive but dazed and cursing.

"Fucking bastards," Peters ground out as plasma bolts hammered into the building. Above, the unique sound of Carson's sniper rail rifle cracked through the air twice in rapid succession, and the incoming fire slackened a little.

_She's gifted_, Cortez thought to himself as he shuffled closer to the window he had been sitting at earlier. He edge his rifle over the windowsill and blind fired a long burst, probably not hitting anything but drawing fire away from the sniper so she could work her magic more easily.

Cortez was safe in the knowledge that he could waste as much ammo as he liked. Laser weapons were loaded and reloaded with energy cells, which provided power to the small laser within the weapons firing chamber. This small laser wouldn't do a great deal of damage by itself, but its destructive capacity was amplified a hundred times by a focussing crystal and hundreds of tiny mirrors within the weapon.

These cells contained enough power for 2500 rounds at the rifles 'normal' setting, which was lethal but tended to perform poorly against personal shields or heavy body armour , but was just fine for the combat he had seen so far.

The wall against which he had braced himself shuddered under multiple plasma impacts, but Cortez knew he was safe behind the Instacrete walls. It was, after all, designed to withstand small arms fire in enormous amounts.

Outside, the tank came back to life, spraying a small pile of rubble that protected a half-dozen Jaffa, hundreds of laser bolts splashing into the remains of a news stand and food vendor. Metals not designed to withstand such punishment boiled away under the intense heat, brick and mortar became hot to the touch, and given enough time would doubtless explode under the pressure being forced to build up inside their minute air pockets from the laser impacts.

One of the warriors stood, managing to let off a pair of plasma bolts that splashed harmlessly against the Myrmidons shields like raindrops against a plate of glass, before he was cut down in a hail of blood red laser fire. Another tried to turn and run, only to be beheaded by another rail spike, courtesy once more of Sandy Carson.

Two more were killed when Peters tossed an M909 Hyper-Velocity Rail-Grenade, a small, compact grenade that was an evolutionary step-up from fragmentation grenades. The grenade itself was shaped like an over sized chicken egg, and had a weight in the broader bottom half that kept it upright. It did not detonate in the traditional sense; instead, it fired a powerful magnetic pulse that sent hundreds of 5mm rail spikes in all directions.

It had been the brainchild of former Marines, brought to life by Assaultech Industries working in conjunction with Shaw-Fujikawa Fabrications, a company that produced mainly civil technologies, but maintained a military contract for their patented Hyperdrive. Rumour was, they were also working on a new form of FTL travel, but no-one could confirm that.

The four remaining Jaffa were shredded by the grenade, two of them dying almost instantly as their bodies were over-penetrated by more than a hundred rails each. The other two got off more lightly, one of them screaming obscenities and trying to crawl towards the tank, one of his legs having been torn of in the storm of metal, the other firing wildly at the café, his serpentine helmet shattered and face badly wounded.

That Jaffa fell quickly to hail of rail spikes and laser bursts, crumpling to the ground, staff weapon still firing. Two more rounds hit the tanks shields, another hitting the screaming Jaffa in the back and silencing him. Silence. Pure, but for the sounds of distant combat and artillery shelling. No-one in the café dared make a sound, listening intently for any sound that might give away an enemy trooper lurking in ambush.

Eyes and sophisticated sensor suites scanned the buildings around them. The tanks main gun slowly tracked back and forth, infrared and sonic sensors built into the turret seeking targets. Cortez exchanged a glance with Peters. The other man nodded and together they stood and cautiously stepped out of the café.

When they weren't cut down in a hail of plasma fire, Peters signalled the other Marine, a man bearing the Private insignia on his shoulder plate, to accompany them and for Carson to stay put and keep an eye out. The three men navigated their way over the rubble and bodies, treading lightly and dodging the occasional half-dead fire that had broken out during the fighting as various pieces of wood were struck by super-hot energy projectiles.

Up ahead, a Tau popped the hatch on the tank and stood up, waving to the men from the café.

"Thank you for your assistance," the Tau female shouted, her tone enthusiastic. "How may we return the favour?"

The female Tau hauled herself up out of the tank, then turned around and helped a male human out. The man was tall and thin, with a bushy beard that was in no way regulatory in the Marine Corps, but with the PDF, regulations were not nearly as strict.

"You can start by giving us a lift to the city limits," Peters replied, hopping over a thigh-high lump of Instacrete. The human hopped down from the tank, held out his hand in front of him and shook hands with Cortez and the two Marines.

"Mattias Hennes," he introduced himself. "This here's M'Ino," he gestured to the Tau woman. "And this old girl's Bertha," he finished, patting the side of the tank like it was a loyal dog.

Cortez's eyebrows rose slightly at that. It was common for tank operators, or 'Tankers' to name their artificial steeds, but they usually came up with more imaginative ones than 'Bertha'.

After Cortez, Peters and the Marine Private, apparently named Jurgen, introduced themselves and told Hennes and M'Ino of their predicament, the bushy-bearded man smiled wide, chuckled and said, "Well, if you and yours want out of the city, then Berty's the one to do it, especially now she owes you fine folks her life!"

Cortez should have been happy that they now had a secure ride out of the city, even if it meant riding on the hull of the tank, but he had begun to suspect that Mattias Hennes' mind was not entirely there.

_Only time will tell_, he told himself. _In the meantime, you've got the lady of your dreams to get to._

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**2187**

**Recon Flight to P3Y-737**

**Captain Sally Pullman Commanding**

To say that Sally Pullman was nervous right now was something akin to saying that a _Behemoth_-Class Dreadnought was big. Slim and attractive in a military sort of way, Pullman was forty-three years old, blond haired and blue eyed, had never married and had no children. Flying recon for the Marine Corps was her life as well as her job.

She clenched and unclenched her fists slowly, rolling her neck around and letting out a few deep breaths, trying to ease her anxiety. Going into possible enemy territory and recovering data that even Recon Drones couldn't wasn't a new experience for her. Knowing next to nothing about said enemy was.

A beep on her Recon Outfitted _Scorpion_ Interceptors console alerted her that in five seconds, her craft would be magnetically catapulted out of the launch bay and into the swirling realm of hyperspace. Hyperspace launches were rare because of the inherent risks involved, namely that a non-hyper designed fighter craft would not be able to overcome the hyper spatial energy currents and would be destroyed.

In this case, however, her fighter and her two escorting _Shrike_ Heavy Fighters would be exiting hyperspace almost as soon as they launched from the carrier _Legacy_. The carrier itself would remain in hyperspace, with its four escorting _Darden-_Class Destroyers, just outside of the system and await the Green Light from Pullman, at which point the carrier and four destroyers would enter the system and move into orbit above P3Y-737, there to begin setting up a temporary base of operations on the ground until the rest of the fleet, waiting about fifteen minutes travel time behind them, jumped in.

When that happened, the _Titan_ Star Fortress would take orbital overwatch. Until then, Sally Pullman had a job to do. Despite the fact that she new it was coming, the moment the magnetic launchers flung her out into the void of hyperspace surprised her and pressed her hard back into her seat, making her a little nauseous.

The twin _Shrikes _launched a second later, forming up on her flanks in an escort position. A quick couple of taps at her computer screen, and Pullman was reoriented toward their target system.

"Tac Com, Recon 9 preparing to exit hyperspace, awaiting confirmation of Green Light," Pullman spoke into the subspace communication device that allowed FTL communication, then waited patiently for a reply. There was no time lag, of course, but Tac Com had to check and recheck their mission parameters and ensure that they really did have the go ahead from higher up. There had been times in the past when missions had been aborted at the last possible second, but because no-one had made last minute checks, the ships or soldiers involved had commenced with the mission, often resulting in either the death and destruction of the involved parties, or a strain on diplomacy to the Tau, various privateer factions and the Trader Coalition.

"Green Light confirmed, Recon, you are good to go." the droll AI that commanded the _Legacy_'s fighter and bomber wings answered. Pullman confirmed that she had received the transmission, sent a text-only burst to the two _Shrikes_, and made the jump.

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Space above P3Y-737 was filled with the debris of the two Ha'taks that had met their end there, the planets gravitational pull slowly but surely dragging even the largest pieces down to a fiery death in the planets atmosphere. The people who occupied the only real settlement on the planet had stared up at the sky in wonder every night since the _Magnus_ had left, making a game out of counting or naming the 'falling stars'.

Some of the younger couples had used the beautiful patterns the small pieces of hull plating made across the night sky as an excuse for romantic picnics under the stars, although none ever ventured beyond the high walls which protected them from the monsters that lurked in the woods.

Three small but very bright points of light flared into existence far from the world, and Captain Pullmans interceptor and her fighter escorts appeared just over 35 million kilometres from the planets gravity well.

_Hela_, Pullman thought to herself. _This planet can't just be P3Y-whatever, it has to have a name. Hela sounds good, it better not be taken._

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Pullman activated the nose-mounted recon camera, taking snapshots of the area as she accelerated and moved in closer. The two _Shrikes_ hung back, staying within just a few thousand kilometres of their entry coordinates, moving in slow, lazy figure eights, alternating between horizontal and vertical manoeuvres.

Pullman eased back on the throttle as she ventured deeper into Hela's gravity well, the hi-res camera shifting its focus from the remains of the ships down to the surface of the planet, zooming in on the village and surrounding areas, observing the villagers outside their ramshackle buildings. A handful of photographs were even taken of the landing site the Spectres from the _Magnus_ had used nearly a week ago.

"No sign of enemy activity. Little evidence of the _Magnus_' presence here other than discarded OHEVs and a small amount of orbital debris," Pullman spoke softly into her one-way link to the _Legacy. _"Possibility: the _Magnus_ was attacked and destroyed deeper into the planets gravity well after launching its Communication Drone."

A few more snapshots, this time in classical white-on-black heat vision. Anything giving off ambient heat was highlighted in white, anything that was cool showed up in black.

"That possibility is unlikely, however, as at least some of the debris of such fighting would have survived atmospheric entry. I'm not able to glean much more from my surveillance, but the AIs ought to be able to spot anything I've missed. Full sensor logs will be made available upon my return to the _Legacy_," Pullman finished her brief report, took a few more shots of the planets surface, then turned and began heading back toward her waiting escorts.

She set her crafts auto-pilot and relaxed a little, mulling over her brief and surprisingly simple mission. A Recon Drone probably could have done it better, but it was standard practice to use flesh-and-blood pilots as the relatively 'dumb' AI of a drone couldn't make voice-observations on data later on.

If the AIs back on the _Legacy _didn't spot anything untoward about the world she had named, then the fleet could be here within the hour and a make-shift FLEETCOM station would be made out of the accompanying _Titan. _Marine bases would be set up on the ground, maybe even a PDF legion or two, and more official contact would be made with the villagers.

Another fortification would be made as well: a Marine Firebase was going to be erected around the gateway that the Jaffa forces had been using to come and go from the planet lately, complete with a battlesuit squadron and a handful of Anti-Gravity attack choppers, although Pullman didn't know about that just yet.

With a sigh, she broke herself out of her reverie and deactivated the auto-pilot.

"You boys good to go?," she sent to the _Shrikes_ on a secure bandwidth. After receiving affirmatives from both pilots, who had now formed up once more on her flanks, Pullman input the rendezvous coordinates for the Legacy and made the short hop to hyperspace, leaving behind her new world until the fleet was ready to make their next move.

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**2187**

**HICOM, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Imperial**_

Selmak was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life. He could understand the humans' distrust of him and his comrades, especially now that one of the worlds they controlled was under siege by the Goa'uld. But he could not understand why they would not let him rest. He had been bombarded with questions for days now, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

"Please, tell us again why you're so different from the Goa'uld?," the man who had been speaking to him for today asked. Selmak had already told them this story several times, and he was starting to get particularly frustrated with having to go over it again and again.

_At least they have been somewhat polite, thus far_, his host reminded him. Selmak had to agree with that; since their arrival and despite Selmaks initial misgivings upon meeting the humans and their strange blue-skinned allies, he and his Jaffa companions had been treated well, receiving hot, tasty meals of local delicacies, comfortable beds, hot and cold running water, the works.

"As I have said, the Goa'uld and the Tok'ra share ancestry, but little else," Selmak started telling his story again. "The Goa'uld take over and suppress the consciousness of their hosts, not wanting to share minds with the being they inhabit. The Tok'ra share the body with their hosts consciousness and only take hosts if they volunteer or are badly injured and it is the only way to save them."

"Yes, I'm told that the symbiotes have some remarkable regenerative capabilities," the human spoke, nodding and looking somewhat thoughtful. Selmak realised he had not been introduced to this human, nor had he been spoken to by him before. The man was not wearing the grey disruptive pattern camouflage adorned with various pieces of ribbon or metal that the others had.

Instead, he wore a pitch black business suit, complete with bright white shirt beneath the jacket and a black tie. His hair was black with some grey at the temples, cut fairly short and styled to spikes, standing straight up. The man was fairly tall, standing at six-foot-one and was well built with the look of someone who had earned his physique through hard work rather than through working out constantly. Muddy brown eyes and a handsome, creased face completed the picture.

He looked nothing like any of the military men that had interrogated Selmak and his companions up until now.

"Mister Selmak," the man spoke suddenly. "My name is Paul Grove, and I am a member of the Office Of Naval Intelligence, specifically Sector Two. I am one of many people charged with opening and maintaining diplomatic relations with any extra-terrestrial species we come across and also with the Trader Coalition and numerous non-hostile separatists and privateers. Do you know why I am here?"

Selmak hesitated slightly, not fully understanding everything he had just been told, before answering. "I do not."

Grove nodded and smiled slightly. "Well Mister Selmak, it seems you and your friends have managed to convince the officials here aboard _Imperial _of your goodwill and general dislike of the Goa'uld. That's where I come in. Now that we have determined some level of understanding about you and your Jaffa allies, I have been sent here as an emissary in order to begin laying the ground work for an alliance, or at least a treaty."

Selmak was surprised; he had begun to suspect that the humans did not believe anything they had been told and were intending to keep Selmak and the two Jaffa, Kemet and Joran, in isolation aboard their space station for eternity. Immediately following the surprise, he was pleased, for they had seemingly accomplished what they had set out to do. Then suspicion; he still couldn't be sure of the humans intent until he learned more about them.

"My counterpart in the Tau Diplomatic Relations Committee will be along shortly, with the Jaffa that accompanied you here," Grove continued, leaning down beneath the large desk and grabbing a suitcase, hefting it up into view and laying it down on the table. "In the meantime, I'm to inform you of the basic information about our civilisation and our alliance with the Tau."

Selmaks suspicion grew. It was as if the human had-

"Read your mind? As a matter of fact, I did," Grove interrupted Selmaks thoughts with a smile. On seeing Selmaks astonishment, Grove nodded slightly and began explaining. "It's been documented for the last 120 or so years that Extra Sensory Perception, or ESP, is actually a fairly common occurrence, 1/3rd of the human population and half of the Tau population exhibiting signs of at least mild ESP. Basic empathy, that is feeling the emotions of those around you, and limited telepathy, the ability to either communicate with another being via speaking directly into their minds, or being able to read another persons thoughts."

"More extreme cases of ESP can have people being able to sense danger before it arrives, although not necessarily knowing what that danger might be, telekinesis, the ability to move things using only ones mind, on rare occasions and even pyrokinesis, the ability to create fire with ones mind, although only three such cases have ever been documented. I am one of the stronger empathic-telepathists, an ability that is most useful given my chosen profession," Grove finished speaking, then remained quiet a moment while Selmak digested the information. He seemed stunned and a little perturbed, wondering what else this human was capable of.

"I wouldn't worry, I can't go any deeper into your mind than just surface thoughts without triggering a very painful headache, and in the interest of future diplomatic relations, I would never do such a thing," Grove spoke, picking up on Selmaks discomfort. "Think of it this way: I just gave you some info on our civilisation that I didn't have to."

"Anyway. The UNSC is the controlling government body and we are currently in orbit of their capital world, Bastion. The United Earth Government came before us, and still exists as the government body in charge of the Sol system, birthplace of mankind. Anything beyond the Sol system is the UNSCs jurisdiction. We've been allies with the Tau for 67 years and have fought a major interstellar war with them at our side against a race we know only as the Alkaid, who are now believed extinct due to outside influence," Grove continued, Selmak listening intently and keeping a close one on the mans face, trying to judge whether he was being lied to or not.

"Both the Tau Republic and the UNSC, as well as the UEG, are democracies, with elections being held once every three years. Everyone over the age of eighteen is allowed to vote for who they want as their colony leader, system representative and overall president," Grove stopped speaking as a number of sharp knocks came at the thin titanium door.

"Excuse me, Mister Selmak," Grove said, then stood and headed to the door.

_What is this 'Mister' word?_, Selmak thought to himself, _an honorific of some kind?_

_Not the most pressing issue at the moment_, his host said back.

Selmak was cut off from replying when Grove returned to the table, a blue-skinned Tau and the two Jaffa with him. "We'll have to cut this history lesson short, I'm afraid. For now, let's get down to the real business," Grove stated as he returned to his seat.

Selmak looked forward to this experience.

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**8****th**** Age of Reclamation**

**Fleet of Ascendant Justice, Covenant Holy City **_**High Charity**_

**Orbit of the Holy Ring, Halo**

Despite having been in orbit of the Holy Ring for nearly a week, and having actually been down on the Ring a number of times, Fleet Master Orna Fulsamee still could not tear his gaze away from it on the occasions that he spotted it on one of the monitors or during trips in his personal Phantom Drop ship between the surface and his flagship or the Holy City.

He watched its slow rotation between the twin gas giants, catching glimmers of dark blue water, brown and green land and the occasional Forerunner structure large enough to be seen from orbit. The dark metallic outer lining of the Ring had a dull sheen to it, and was absolutely crawling with countless maintenance drones left behind to care for the Halo by the Gods, keeping it ready for activation by the worthy ones, to send them on the path to the Great Journey.

Although Fulsamee believed in the Journey, he did not believe the Prophets were the worthy ones. They were frail, vain and irritating in the extreme, forcing the much more war-like Sangheili to use tactics and strategies sanctioned only by them, often woeful ones filled more with praises to the Gods than any actual battle plans.

Sneering, Fulsamee turned his attention to the green-glowing, floating orb beside him: the Oracle. He was humbled by its presence, and as though suddenly remembering his task, Fulsamee spoke to the Oracle.

"Oracle, forgive my laxity in duty. I shall deliver you to the Hierarchs with all due haste," Fulsamee bowed slightly, hoping that the Oracle would forgive him and not speak of this to the Prophets, if it did, he would surely be punished severely.

"As you wish," the Oracle spoke, sounding almost bored with the situation. "I must return to the installation as quickly as possible, so please ask what you will so that I may do my duty."

"Of course, Oracle," Fulsamee bowed again, then gestured for the machine to follow him. As they wandered the corridors of the Holy City, headed for the Hierarchs personal chambers, anyone they passed bowed to the Oracle, be they the lowliest Unngoy, the mightiest Lek'golo, the smelliest Jiralhanae, or the greatest of Sangheili. Fulsamee stepped through a door, took a left and walked straight for fifty metres before coming to gravity lift.

He stepped on and was whisked away upwards, followed closely by the Oracle. Images of other decks or of the ancient Forerunner ship that supplied power to High Charity whizzed by at phenomenal speed. Finally the lift deposited them at their destination: the Atrium to the Hierarchs chambers. Dozens of Sangheili stood along the walk to the great doors that led to the chambers, dressed in the garb of the Honour Guard. Venerable, powerful warriors each, Fulsamee had hoped to gain the prestige of such a posting once he finished his time as Fleet Master, before he had begun losing his faith in the Hierarchs.

He walked slowly, nodding to each of the Guards, receiving nods in return; he had come through here often enough over the years that the Honour Guards knew him like he was one of their own. He was allowed access through the doors immediately upon reaching them, a sure sign of the great respect and trust the Prophets and their elite Guards had in him.

When finally he entered the chambers, however, he saw only one Prophet: Truth. He had thought that Mercy and Regret would have been there to greet the Oracle, but clearly he had been mistaken.

"Leave us," Truth sneered at Fulsamee. The Elite was not taken aback at all; of all the Hierarchs, he hated Truth most, and Truth kept him around only because of his usefulness and because Mercy and Regret had seemingly taken a liking to him over the years.

"As you wish," Fulsamee all but spat back. As he turned and left the chamber, he heard the Oracle introduce itself to Truth in the exact same way it had to the warriors who had found it, and to Fulsamee himself later on.

"Greetings. I am Sixteen-Oh-Nine Beneficent Collaborator, the Monitor of Installation Zero-Two. How may I assist you?"

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A/N: There's another chapter done. Next one finishes the talks between Selmak and Grove, gives a little bit more background into the UNSC/TRN/UEG and deals with the conversation between the monitor and Truth, and maybe introducing the Asgard. Also, depending on whether I can be bothered doing it in the next chapter or if I want to devote a whole chapter to it again, some more about the trials and tribulations of the _Magnus_ and the Colonials.

Glad I got this one done quicker than I thought, got some time off work and seeing as my girl's out of town for the next two weeks, I figured I might as well do some work on this. Reviews, reviews, reviews folks, I need 'em to get a better idea of what you all think, so get to it.


	10. The Taint Of Heresy

Disclaimer: Same as ever. Don't own any of the TV shows/movies/video games featured in this story.

**To Gatemaster: **After careful deliberation (lots of that), I've decided to keep using my OC aliens rather than change the storyline so that they are the Vasari. While I do agree that their back story is somewhat similar to the Vasari, I feel that the Empire would be too advanced for the Magnus to have any hope of being able to fend them off, even following with the Colonials tactic of just jumping away whenever the Cylons show up and only fighting when absolutely necessary.

After all, the Vasari Empire uses Phasic Missiles (very similar to Ancient Drones) plasma wave and beam weapons, and while I agree that they look vaguely lizard-like, they don't have the more insectoid parts of anatomy I described (chitinous natural armour, for example), and as far as I know, they don't have variations in their species, like the shorter, more vicious close-in combatant I had in the last part of that chapter. I'll be adding more info on their empire in the next chapter.

As for the integration of 'Sins' ships and the Trade Coalition, that was mostly coincidental, I didn't even realise I was doing it until you told me and I checked the manual for 'Sins', although the Trade Coalition was deliberate, as I wanted a non-military alliance of trading organisations somewhere in the story, but again I didn't notice how similar it is to the Trader Emergency Coalition until I checked the manual.

**To He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Lame: **Just for you, I decided to make things a little interesting in this chapter and add in some of those Forerunner defences I mentioned. I hope they are powerful enough - and insane enough - to match with your expectations of such an advanced species.

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**8****th**** Age Of Reclamation**

**Fleet Of Ascendant Justice, Covenant Holy City **_**High Charity**_

**Orbit Of The Holy Ring, Halo**

"Oracle," Truth spoke with reverence, basking in the green glow of the messenger of his Lords. "Please, I must know how to commence with the Great Journey, how to activate the Holy Ring and send all who are worthy along the Path."

"Great Journey? I have never heard it referred to as that before," the Oracle answered, bobbing up and down in the Monitors equivalent of a shrug. "In any case, the Installation need not be activated, as there is no containment failure. The Flood remains secure in their holding facilities."

Truth blinked his large eyes several time rapidly, surprised.

_Does the Oracle not know of the Journey?_

"The Installations sensors do not detect the presence of Reclaimers within your fleet, so even if I could permit activation, it would not be possible," the Oracle continued on, moving to one of the large view screens and looking out at the 800 ship strong Fleet Of Ascendant Justice. That wasn't all either. There were two more fleets of equal size in the system, the Fleet of Silent Inquisition and the _Unyielding Hierophant_, an enormous battle station that nearly match High Charity in size, and its own defence fleet. It was, even for the Monitor, an impressive sight.

"But Oracle, we, the San'Shyuum, Holy Prophets and conduit between the Gods and the masses of the Covenant, _are_ the Reclaimers," Truth spoke forcefully, not believing that he was actually having to give a religious and historical lecture to the being whose creators were the basis of the Covenant religion. Truth himself looked out at the fleet, one of the five-and-a-half kilometre long, hook-headed super carriers drifting past just a few hundred kilometres distant, sunlight reflecting off of its silver-purple hull. It was, even now, an impressive sight for Truth; only dreadnoughts, Fleet Nodes and High Charity itself were larger than the super carriers.

"Odd that you would think yourselves the descendants of my creators," the Oracle said. "Perhaps you have not seen enough of their artefacts to see the truth of matters? No. Impossible. This city-ship and the fleet that surrounds us is a poor simile of the creations of my forebears."

"What heresy do you speak, Oracle?," Truth asked, aghast as he turned away from the spectacle of the Covenant fleet. This was not how he had imagined this conversation going. It had been more along the lines of Truth asking the Oracle how to begin the Great Journey, the Oracle telling Truth everything it knew, Truth becoming the hero of all the Covenant at the moment he commenced the Journey.

"Heresy? I see no religious implications in the activation of the Installations," the Oracles green glow dimmed in the equivalent of a frown. "I see that you have no questions of relevance. I must return to the Installation in order to continue my duties."

"No!," Truth shouted, his voice hoarse. He couldn't let the Oracle leave, he had to have its knowledge! "Oracle, we are the Reclaimers! Help us reach the Path, to begin our Journey and take our rightful place at the Gods side."

"The Reclaimers are not here. I cannot permit activation of the Installation without either a severe breach in containment or with the express permission and proper activation codes supplied by a Reclaimer," the Oracle spoke again, an edge to its voice that suggested that it was beginning to become frustrated with Truth.

"The Reclaimers are the descendants of the Gods!," Truth shrieked, drawing his lips back in a snarl of rage. "_I _am a Reclaimer! _I _will lead us all to salvation! It is my _right_ to claim the mantle as Child of the Gods! You will tell me what I need to know, machine, or I will have you torn apart and dissected until I have all the knowledge you keep!"

The Oracle swivelled around to face the view screens again, watching as a pair of elongated manta-ray style battle cruisers moved past the closest of the two gas giants the Installation orbited. Truths own eyes followed the gaze of the Oracle, looking down at the green-tinged atmosphere of the enormous world. He looked on in wonder at the enormous electrical storm that raged violently in the worlds upper atmosphere.

The storm stretched on for thousands of kilometres, huge arcs of lightning playing across the entirety of the storm front, whipping about in some monstrous parody of long blades of grass caught in a strong wind. Truth felt some of his anger ebb away.

"Very well, I will tell you what you wish to know, if only so that you'll allow me to return to my duties," the Oracle finally spoke. "You wish to activate the installations? It will not happen without Reclaimers present. You are not a Reclaimer, this is what they look like."

With the end of that sentence, a holographic image of an alien creature sprung to life between the Oracle and Truth. The being was shorter than a Sangheili, but taller than a Kig'Yar, with a short crop of hair atop a roundish head, large, inquisitive eyes, each with a smaller crop of hair above them.

Aside from that, the creature appeared mostly hairless, though it was wearing some kind of cloth that was form-fitting and looked comfortable. It was bipedal, and was wearing leg- and foot-coverings. It looked like a Jiralhanae might have looked if it had been shaved, but with features that were not nearly as unattractive. No prominent teeth, short ears to either side of the head, an odd snout and relatively short neck.

"What is it?," Truth asked, still examining the image closely.

"A Reclaimer," the Oracle answered, shutting down the projection. "The evolved face of my creators. Data collected by the Installation's long-range scanning systems indicates that there is a system inhabited by the Reclaimers approximately thirty-eight-point-three parsecs from this installation, toward the Galactic Centre. They call themselves 'humans'. Bring me a 'human' with the proper authorisation codes, and the Installation can be activated."

_Impossible_, Truth raged inside of his mind. _This is all wrong! It is my right to propel all who are worthy along the Path_! _These creatures are clearly usurpers. For their heresy, they will pay!_

"Guards!," Truth shouted. Immediately, the great doors to his chambers parted to reveal a dozen armed Sangheili warriors, bearing their ceremonial staffs, energy swords or plasma rifles. "Seize the Oracle! It has been tainted by heresy!"

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Sixteen-Oh-Nine Beneficent Collaborator was in a tight spot. It was far enough away from the Installation that it did not have access to the teleportation grid, therefore it could not simply teleport back to the Library and leave these creatures to their own devices.

It had basic defences - a high powered plasma beam weapon and a small but very resilient shield generator - but it knew that it would be no match for the many alien warriors that now swarmed into the room, for they themselves carried plasma-based weapons and each of them had their own personal shields.

That left Beneficent Collaborator with just one recourse: it had to activate the Installations external defences to create a large enough distraction to allow for it to return to its duties. With a burst of power to its inertia-less anti-gravity propulsion systems, Beneficent Collaborator rose high above the heads of the aliens, out of their reach, then turned toward an anti-gravity lift in the far corner of the room; its means of escape.

As it dodged the sporadic bursts of blue plasma fire sent its way and headed for the gravity lift that would lead it away from its assailants - at least for a short while -, Beneficent Collaborator reached out with the tendrils of its vastly powerful computer mind, activating systems that had not been used since the end of the Flood Wars nearly one hundred thousand years ago.

Curiously, its mind did not reach for the Installation itself. Rather, it delved into the depths of the twin gas giants, sending high-powered transmissions deep into the gravity wells of the two planets, so deep that anything not of Forerunner make would surely have been crushed by the incredible pressure. The Monitor was not activating Halos own impressive counter-measures - the majority of the intruders fleet was too far away from the ring for the majority of its armaments to reach. Instead it was activating the autonomous attack drones left behind by its makers when they had been forced to activate the Installations.

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_The ships - two in each gas giant - slowly came to life after a hundred millennia of disuse. Ancient systems came to life and the nano-armour regenerated itself at an incredible rate, self-replicating nanites swarming throughout the entirety of the ships and restoring them to their former glory._

_Sophisticated sensor suites and unflappable shielding systems came online one after the other as the attack drones received their orders from the Monitor of the Installation they had been told to protect by their original master so long ago. Each ship had an intelligence all of its own, very similar to an exceptionally loyal dog, willing to do whatever was asked of it by its loving master, even if it meant dying in order to please or ensure the continued survival of that master._

_The drones had been designed to be incorruptible by the Flood, requiring no crew whatsoever, making them extremely difficult to completely destroy in combat, they were the perfect weapon against Flood-infested ships. Each one was just over four hundred metres long, but that was subject to change because of the unique nature of the vessels. They were constructed almost entirely out of nano-machines, which allowed them to change their hull configuration and size to match their situation._

_Right now, each one had compacted down to a small starburst - an attack configuration which allowed the vessels to fire in every direction at once - but if the alien fleet they had detected proved too much for such a formation, there were dozens more to choose from. Weapons and shields now active, they had all they needed to defend the Installation and the Monitor - to their deaths if need be._

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The first sign that the Monitor had done anything other than flee its pursuers came when the Covenant Dreadnought _Truth Seeker_, seven kilometres long and bristling with weapons, suddenly disappeared in a horrendously bright flash of blue fire. Emerging from the atmosphere of the green gas giant - the one with the enormous electrical storm still playing across its stratosphere - like demons from the mists and fires of Hell, two ships shaped like sixteen pointed five dimensional stars roared, inconceivable weapons sending titanic energies across the void to tear down more ships.

A super carrier fired a stream of plasma and a half dozen plasma torpedoes out at one of the ships, to absolutely no effect. Not even a glimmer of active shields. The super-hot plasma just splashed harmlessly against an invisible barrier and dissipated into space around the comparatively tiny ship. The carrier was hit numerous times for its troubles, the attack drones firing thousands of micro-singularities -black holes on a microscopic scale - that sucked away the shields of the super carrier and greedily engulfed more than thirty percent of the ships total mass before collapsing in upon themselves.

More Covenant ships joined the fight, concentrating enough firepower to turn worlds into molten globs of glass on the two ships. Perhaps two hundred vessels - from frigates all the way up to dreadnoughts - took part in the attack, finally getting a positive reaction from the shields of the ships. Flaring to life brilliantly, bright green fields of energy repelled the red and blue plasma fired at them with no apparent strain.

Distracted by the two ships from the green gas giant, the Covenant completely missed the two from the smaller, red-tinged gas giant, and were therefore taken completely unawares when a dozen ships disappeared in balls of flame or were sucked into micro-singularities. Plasma -the real thing, harvested from stars, unlike the 'synthetic' plasma used by the Covenant - was hurled with impunity from the attack drones, easily and efficiently overwhelming shields and melting through the thickly armoured hides of the intruder ships.

Incredibly powerful proton slicer beams fired from the Green Pair, cutting deep into the Covenant fleet, overwhelming the defences of a half-dozen ships each before their firing cycles ceased. Becoming desperate now, the Covenant commanders poured more and more ships into the fight, hoping to overwhelm their attackers with numbers, seeing as they were clearly outmatched technologically.

A pair of battle cruisers, firing their pulse lasers and plasma torpedoes with insane fervour, where suddenly wrenched apart by a slipspace rupture opening deep inside of each of the ships - courtesy of the Red Pair and their weaponised slipspace generators. The result of thousands of years of research, slipspace weapons were considered assets of considerable tactical worth for their ability to completely bypass shields and tear ships apart from the inside out. It was also a weapon that no other race - extinct or otherwise - had ever mastered.

The four attack drones swept through the combined Covenant fleets, leaving thousands of times their tonnage in destroyed or disabled ships in their wake. They made swift progress, shields repelling many terawatts of energy fire from the surrounding ships.

One of the two from the green gas giant splintered off from its compatriot, heading towards the ring world, weapons firing in all directions. Space lit up around the small drone as its slicer beams cored through a dreadnought and three cruisers, the blue tinged explosions leaving a wash of plasma in their wake, consuming dozens of Seraph fighter craft as they moved in on bombing runs on the solitary drone.

Pulse laser beams and plasma torpedoes chased the little ship, nipping at its heels and hitting with enough frequency that is shields were now fully visible, slowly getting brighter. One of the assault carriers nearer to the Halo swung its mass around, plasma collecting in a magnetic containment field in front of its turrets; plasma torpedoes warming up. It never got the chance to fire, however, because at that moment, Halos built-in defences opened fire.

Anti-matter missiles - each about the size of a human thumb and with explosive yields in the kiloton range - flew up from the dark metallic outer surface of the ring in their thousands. Originally designed for anti-fighter use, he Forerunners had discovered that because of their small size and impressive yield, small anti-matter missiles could be produced far more quickly and easily than their much larger cousins, and in sufficient numbers could overwhelm the defences of even the most resilient of ships.

By Forerunner standards, the assault carrier was not very resilient. Its shields rippled as they absorbed the kinetic energy of countless impacts, then popped like a bubble as the proton-field containing the anti-matter collapsed and the anti-matter reacted with the matter of the missile casings themselves with typical results. The explosion - although it was many smaller explosions all occurring at once - was blinding, even hundreds of thousands of kilometres away on High Charity.

The drone blew through what little remained of the carrier at considerable speed, then stopped completely. No deceleration. It just stopped, so suddenly that the few fighters that had managed to keep up with it slammed hard into the drones shields. Ignoring the continuous strikes it was taking, the drone changed its configuration to one geared more toward defence. Nano-machines in their countless trillions replicated themselves, and the drones size inflated from just over one hundred metres in length to nearly ten times that.

Internal sections were ultra-compacted, leaving only enough space for the few components - power generators and sensor suits, etc - that weren't constructed from nanites, dramatically increasing the thickness and density of the drones armoured hide. The end result was a rectangular shape, with weapons arrays all pointed outward, away from the ring.

The other three drones continued on their earlier course, heading for High Charity to rescue their master.

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Fleet Master Fulsamee cursed as he fell to the deck, his proud flagship rumbling around him as the _Shadow Of Intent_'s shields barely remained operational after a glancing blow from one of the three Forerunner attack drones heading for High Charity.

"All ships, concentrate fire on the foremost enemy ship!," Fulsamee shouted as he climbed back to his feet, his lower mandibles twitching in pain as he clutched at his ribs. Clearly he had caused some kind of injury during his fall. The small number of bridge crew with him rushed from console to console; the majority of the crew had been on shore leave on the Holy Ring at the time the attack started, leaving the _Shadow_ with only a skeleton crew.

Fulsamee watched the three rapidly approaching drones intently; in seconds, they would be right on top of the Holy City. He knew not of their objective, but had to assume it had something to do with the Oracle.

"Order the _Firelight _and her escorts to block their passage, tell the Ship Masters to ram the enemy vessels if they must," Fulsamee growled, clenching his huge fists at his sides.

"At once, Fleet Master," one of his underlings replied, then began speaking with the battle cruiser in questions Master. "_Firelight_, you are ordered to halt the enemy ships' forward progress by any means necessary. Ram them if you must."

"_Understood, _Shadow," the Ship Master replied, and immediately the battle cruiser, four destroyers and six frigates splintered off from the _Shadow's_ escort and closed in on the attack drones. Apparently noticing the new threat, the foremost drone fired a volley of micro-singularities into one of the destroyers, the ship compacting down to less than an eight of its previous size and being sucked into oblivion by the black holes.

Three of the frigates took the brunt of a proton beam attack, all three ships exploding in plasmatic fires, the blue super-hot flames licking hungrily at the battle cruisers shields as it blew through the debris field. Finally, the battle cruiser and its remaining escorts opened fire, beams of plasma erupting from the forward projectors of the _Firelight_ and two dozen torpedoes launched from the escort impacted on the only engaging drones shields, causing them to flicker slightly.

One of the destroyers was torn asunder from the inside as a slipspace rupture tore opened inside its bridge section, slaying the bridge crew and resulting in the utter destruction of the ship itself. Once again, the battle cruiser tore the through debris field left by the smaller ship, now moving far faster than was usually considered safe for its engines.

"_For the Journey!_," the Ship Masters voice blared across all battle net frequencies, just a moment before the battle cruiser rammed its 180 million metric ton bulk into the far smaller Forerunner drone it had been charging. Two opposing energy shields met, each one struggling to repel the titanic kinetic energy such a collision produced. Forerunner shield systems, older than any technology used by still living races and incredibly advanced and powerful, repelled the majority of the attack.

The _Firelight_'s shields gave out under the strain, the hull of the 1800 metre long ship ploughing into the far more formidable Forerunner designed barrier. Nearly half of the ship was crumpled and destroyed in small explosions before the drones shields finally gave out, leaving the remainder of the Covenant ship with a clear run at the hull of the little drone.

The larger ship seem to swallow the drone with its bulk, and for a moment it appeared as though the drone was trapped within the confines of the battle cruiser, until the powerful plasma generators that supplied power to the ships weapons, shields, engines and just about everything else lost containment, sending a rolling explosion of plasma rushing out through space.

As the bright light faded, and even as the rest of the three fleets continued fighting off the remaining two drones, the crew of the _Shadow Of Intent_ watched wide-eyed, holding their breath, waiting to see if the drone could possibly have survived such an explosion without its shields. Deep within the debris field and still-dispersing plasma cloud, something moved.

"Impossible," Fulsamee heard one of his underlings gasp. Fulsamee was shocked himself, his mandibles spread wide in surprise as the drone emerged from the remains of the _Firelight_, still functional but clearly damaged. As the drone moved, its engines giving sporadic bursts of power and its shields offline, deep but rapidly healing wounds in its hull, Fulsamee realised that this might be their only chance.

"All ships! Concentrate your fire on the wounded drone! Destroy it now, while it is wounded!," Fulsamee shrieked, his stomach tightening as the high resolution image of the drone zoomed in on its side, and he watched as a gaping trench in its side quickly closed over, uncountable nano-machines doing their efficient work.

The _Shadow_s own "sniper cannon", a powerful, long ranged particle beam weapon, fired into the drones hide, undoing some of the nano-machines work. Plasma torpedoes closed in one the drone slowly, inevitably, their magnetically guided payloads adjusting course to compensate for the drones slow movement.

They were never to impact however, because at that moment a swirling slipspace rupture opened in front of the drone, and the little ship immediately accelerating into it, disappearing on a course to destination unknown.

Fulsamee growled in frustration, slamming his fist down hard on one of the consoles in front of him. "All ships, commence suicide runs on the enemy!"

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1609 Beneficent Collaborator swung itself around, firing its plasma beam weapon in a wide arc, burning down a trio of the small, odd methane-breathing creatures that had tried to corner it, then powered away with its tiny but very powerful engines at full burn.

It passed any number of doors, cutting through various corridors and taking any gravity lifts it came across, throwing the much more formidable creatures that hunted it off its trail as best it could.

The drones were making swift progress, with one in a defensive position above the Installation and two more rapidly approaching the city-ship the Monitor was aboard. Once they were close enough, the Monitor could use their systems as a relay to boost the teleportation grids signal, allowing it to return to the relative safety of the Installation. One more had suffered moderate wounds, the simple-minded intelligence in enough 'pain' that it had jumped to a point just outside of the system in order to lick its wounds.

"Look, there!," the Monitor heard the high-pitched voice to its left, and knew that it was one of the small methane-breathers. Turning, the Monitor charged the power capacitors on its beam cannon and prepared to fire, only to be distracted by a series of red plasma bolts splashing against its shields. Noting the larger threat, the Monitor raised off the floor another two metres, spun around and fired the scintillating red-orange beam.

The enormous, hairy creature that had fired on the Monitor shrieked, and the stench of burning hair an flesh invaded the Monitors olfactory receptors. The beastly creature, through some unknown survival mechanism, survived the slightly under strength beam, dropped its weapon and shouted gibberish, charging maniacally at the Monitor.

The Monitor raised itself further, so that it was now near the ceiling of the corridor, and fired again into the side of the passing creature, scouring the flesh from its ribcage and sending it tumbling to the floor, dead or dying. The Monitor turned its attention on the small methane-breather, only to have the little alien scream in terror and begin running in the opposite direction, its clumsy, comical gait causing it to crash into a locked door, knocking itself unconscious.

"Odd," Beneficent Collaborator murmured to itself, then continued on its way. It passed through another door into a circular two-storey room, with dirt and small plants and boulders covering the lower floor and a gravity lift in the very centre of the room, inset in a semi-circular inner room that ran from floor to ceiling, with a number of walkways branching off into other walkways surrounding the chamber at about mid-height. There was one other thing worth noting about the room as well.

Hairy simians lined the ground floor, and all along the upper walkways were the considerably less offensive reptilian creatures, like the one that had guided him to the 'Prophet'. Guarding the now-inactive grav-lift were four enormous beings clad entirely in some kind of armour, with massive metallic shields attached to their left arms brought down across their bodies in a defensive stance and a large cannon mounted on their right arms, all aimed at the Monitor.

"Please, Oracle, surrender so that me way cleanse you of the Heretics Taint," on of the reptilians spoke in a low growl, stretching its two-fingered, two-thumbed hand out toward the Monitor. Beneficent Collaborator examined the room closely, and knew it would not be able to make it far before overwhelming firepower and sheer weight of numbers were able to overpower it. Behind it came the echoing clanks of armoured feet moving across metallic surfaces, and the Monitor knew it would not be able to head back that way.

A tingling sensation at the back of the Monitors mind alerted it to another possibility; the drones were within range for teleportation to be possible.

"My apologies, but my services are required elsewhere," and with that, 1609 Beneficent Collaborator disappeared in a flash of golden light, leaving dozens of frustrated Covenant troops pointing their weapons at thin air.

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**2187**

**HICOM, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion**

**Orbital Command Facility **_**Imperial**_

"So, Mister Selmak, why don't you tell us exactly what you have to offer us?," Paul Grove said as he set down a glass of water on the large briefing table.

"I don't understand. I thought you said we would be able to make an alliance?," Selmak spoke, a little confused and dubious now as to the intentions of his host. He shared a glance with one of the two Jaffa that were sitting next to him.

"Precisely. An alliance can't be an alliance if there is nothing to be gained for both sides. You said you're fleets are small and you have very few dedicated warships, therefore you most likely expect us to supply you with warships and defensive technologies," Grove answered. "Seeing as you cannot provide military assistance, what can you do for us to make handing over ships and weapons profitable for us?"

Selmak blinked slowly, now knowing what the human was talking about and trying to think of ways the Jaffa and the Tok'ra could prove themselves to be useful allies for the humans and the Tau.

"We have knowledge of the chappa'ai," he finally answered triumphantly.

"The stargate?," Grove asked, to which Selmak nodded an affirmative. The stargate had been discussed in previous interrogations by military members.

"And your ships are formidable, but we can teach you how to manipulate trinium and naquadah to create much stronger and lighter hulls. We have many concealed agents within the Goa'uld Union, some in key positions," Selmak was on a roll now. "We know of Goa'uld fleet and troop movements, the positions of enemy strongholds and shipyards."

Grove was quiet as Selmak finished listing off the things the Tok'ra could do for the Allies. He leaned over and spoke with the Tau, a polite creature named Elder R'Kah, conversing with the alien for several seconds. Selmak recalled why the Tau was an 'Elder'. When humans and Tau first met, they exchanged medical details, physiology and psychology and whatnot, and the humans discovered that one in every hundred thousand Tau had what was eventually known as the Elder Gene.

Average Tau life spans usually lasted about 150 years, closer to 250 years now with the variety of medical technologies discovered since then, but Elders were able to live for up to four centuries due to an odd, and as yet unexplainable, genetic anomaly. An Elder born in the last year could be expected to live for up to seven centuries assuming it was not killed in combat or contracted a disease that nano-meds could not overcome.

Naturally, Elders were respected for their age and wisdom, with most Elders becoming leaders in either civil or military affairs.

Finally, Grove turned his attention back to Selmak. "Mister Selmak, the Elder and I agree; you have enough to offer us to make this alliance profitable for both of us. Once the final arrangements have been made and the treaties signed, we will be able to begin technology exchanges and your fleets will be bolstered with dedicated battle groups."

Selmak was stunned. He had not expected things to go so smoothly. Grove stood, a wide smile crossing his features, and held his right hand out in front of his body, a gesture Selmak had become used to since his arrival at the station. Selmak raised his right hand and grasped Groves firmly, shaking twice quickly.

"Mister Selmak, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Grove smirked.

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**2187**

**1.2 Parsecs From Eden System**

**Camden Sector Fleet, Command Dreadnought **_**Relentless**_

They had been delayed far longer than Rear Admiral Artemis Porcini would have liked, but given the extent of their reinforcements, he could deal with it. They had received two battleship-lead battle groups, another dreadnought-lead battle group, two carrier-lead battle groups and a SOCOM stealth cruiser flotilla, making for a grand total of seven hundred and thirty seven allied ships.

Which still left them outnumbered nearly two-to-one, considering the considerable reinforcements the enemy had received over the past week. The SOCOM ships were still a mystery to Porcini; he had been ordered to halt his preparations and wait for the five cruisers to arrive.

When he'd questioned those orders, he had been told that the five cruiser contained a special payload, and that regardless of whether or not Porcini's forces were able to retake and hold orbit of Eden Prime, it was absolutely vital that those payloads be delivered to Eden Prime's surface. Now all he needed was for his plans to be finalised and for the various battle groups to arrange themselves into a planetary assault formation and he could be underway.

_Soon, you bastards_, Porcini thought to himself, glaring at the latest recon photos of the alien fleet that surround Eden Prime, _soon, you're going to get all that you deserve_.

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**2187**

**3 Parsecs from Knossos System**

**Deep Recon/Early Warning System Patrol, **_**Darden-**_**Class Destroyer **_**Prometheus**_

**Captain Michael Jankowski Commanding**

Knossos was not a particularly important system. At the very edge of Allied territory to the galactic south, it was trinary system, its three suns blasting radiation across the system, and had only one inhabitable world. With a population of just over three hundred, all of them scientists studying the unique effects that three stars had on the nine gas giants, one-hundred-forty-three moons, four terrestrial worlds, on inhabitable world and three asteroid belts that made up the large system.

Because of its unimportance, there was only a very small military contingent in Knossos, two heavy cruiser, four light cruisers, eight destroyers, eight frigates and twelve corvettes, and even then, they were more to protect the extensive mining operations going on in the asteroid belt on the far outer edge of the system than for the benefit of the scientists.

Deep Recon/Early Warning Patrol was a punishment, one that Jankowski had earned through his insubordination regarding the pursuit of pirate raiders. He had been ordered to back off as, they were no real threat to anyone, and he had ignored the order and pursued the two raiders, destroying one ship and badly damaging the other. The crew of the _Prometheus_ thought he was a hero for his actions; Knossos FLEETCOM did not.

So here he was, light-years from anywhere, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for something interesting to happen. He was about to get his wish.

"Captain, I'm getting some unusual sensor readings here, sir," Ensign Arthur Bates said a little timidly. Young and inexperienced, Bates looked up to Jankowski, a poor choice in role models as far as anyone not posted to the _Prometheus_ was concerned.

"What have you got, son?," Jankowski asked, his interest piqued. He examined the readouts closely.

"I'm not sure, sir."

Jankowski knew what it was after a moment, though. The sensor distortions he was seeing were consistent with advanced and fairly powerful stealth systems, similar to those used by SOCOM ships. Finally, he had something to do.

"They're ships. Boone, send a hostile challenged and warm up the weapons," Jankowksi ordered the AI. Not blessed with true sentience, Boone was a specialised AI integrated with the ships systems, and could learn no knew actions or phrases not associated with his work.

"Challenge sent. No response," Boone stated. "Shall I transmit First Contact packages?"

Jankowski thought it over. To his knowledge, Knossos was the furthest south anyone had gone before, aside from long-range probes. It was possible the reason there was no response to his challenge was because this was a new alien race.

"Do so, then send another challenge and give them sixty seconds to reply. If they don't, fire a warning shot with the plasma cannons," Jankowski answered.

"Done, sir. Awaiting response." Time ticked by slowly, and still no response from the unknown contact. "No response, firing warning shot."

Unfortunately, due to the sophisticated high-tech nature of the stealth systems the unknown ship used, Boones twin-pulsed plasma blasts impacted on the ship, rather than a kilometre behind it as planned.

"Energy levels of the unknown contact rising, possibly bringing weapons online. Raising shields to optimal integrity," Boon spoke. "Activating active ECM and ECCM, preparing for possible hostilities."

"If that ship fires on us, I want it taken out with extreme prejudice, understood?," Jankowski told the AI.

"Understood, sir, weapons locked."

It was a standoff now, Jankowski sending co-ordinates and reinforcement requests back to the small fleet in Knossos, the alien ship doing whatever it was alien ships did. Whether this would turn into a shooting match or not, only time would tell.

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A/N: Three guesses as to who occupies the alien ship, and the first two don't count. ECM is Electronic Counter-Measures and ECCM is Electronic Counter-Counter-Measures. ECM is used to confuse enemy sensors into thinking a ship is in a different place to what it actually is, and ECCM is used to cut through enemy ECM.

Review and let me know what you think of the Forerunner attack drones, they're a taste of some of the things the Forerunner had at their disposal while they were still around. And let me know what you think of my OC Monitor, I wanted something a little darker and more willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done than either Guilty Spark, Penitent Tangent or Medicant Bias in terms of Forerunner AIs.

Any guesses as to what the 'special payloads' the SOCOM ships in Porcini's fleet are carrying might be? Until next time, send in your reviews!


	11. The Shield, of course

Disclaimer: Do not own yada yada yada. You all know this by now, and you all know that I know this, so don't anybody get any ideas about suing me.

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**Orbit of New Caprica, Inside the Ionic Nebula**

**CIC, Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Things had mellowed out a bit now. The UNSC ship had repelled its boarders without the need for Colonial assistance, the commander of the ship having cancelled his request shortly after the Raptors carrying the Colonial Marines had launched, unwittingly averting a potential disaster.

Now, though, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was carefully monitoring the DRADIS screens, watching the approach of two UNSC fighters and a 'dropship', escorting the commanding officer of the _Magnus_ and a small number of high-ranked officials from the smaller ship. There would be no such strokes of luck to prevent this meeting between Admiral Adama and Commander Burrows.

Gaeta watched the _Magnus _and the mysterious ship it had defeated as well, making sure neither of them made a move without him, and by extension the whole fleet, knowing about it. He watched as a pair of Mk VIIs launched from the _Galactica_,moving toward the dropship and its two escorts; they would be guiding the dropship into the _Galactica_'s flight pod.

With a sigh, he reached over and grabbed a cup of lukewarm Tauron coffee, sipping at the rejuvenating brew, then glanced back at the DRADIS screen. And froze, staring wide-eyed at the empty space on the screen that the _Magnus _had occupied just seconds ago.

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Admiral William Adama was frustrated. He muttered curses to himself as he rifled through his small locker, searching for the sash that went with his dress uniform. It wasn't the first time the damnable sash had gone mysteriously missing before an important meeting. He pushed aside a small mound of clean uniforms, and smiled triumphantly to himself as the sash fell from the locker to the ground, bending down to pick it up.

"_Admiral Adama, report to CIC. Admiral Adama to CIC_," the familiar voice of Lieutenant Gaeta cut through the relative silence of the room. The admiral huffed in annoyance, but made his way over to the intraship phone that hung on the wall by the desk in his quarters.

"This is Admiral Adama. What is it, Mister Gaeta?," Adama asked, holding the phone in place by leaning his head to the side and pressing it between his shoulder and neck while he fiddled with the sash.

"_The Magnus, sir. It just disappeared off of DRADIS!_," the younger man answered from the other end. Adama dropped the sash on top of his desk and got a better grip on the phone.

"Say that again, please Mister Gaeta," Adama asked, a frown etching itself onto his features.

"_It's gone, sir, there one moment and gone the next_," came the reply.

_Where the frak could it have gone?_, the older man thought to himself.

Aloud, he said "Did it jump away? And what about the shuttle they were sending over?"

"_I don't know if it jumped or not sir, but the shuttle is still on DRADIS, less than a minute away from docking from the look of it._"

"Keep me informed, Mister Gaeta. I'll have to ask our guests about this once they arrive. In the meantime, I need to get down to the docking bay," Adama replied, reaching for his sash again as he hung up the phone.

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**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**Port-side Flight Pod, flight deck**

Commander Lee 'Apollo' Adama frowned at the shuttlecraft the 'UNSC' had referred to as a 'dropship'. He was more than a little concerned about letting such an obviously armed ship aboard the _Galactica_, but the aging battlestar wasn't his to command; that was up to his father.

Still, he couldn't help but eye the ship warily, taking note of what looked like missile pods attached to the short, stubby wings of the craft, the nose-mounted weapon that tracked back and forth across the flight deck, adhering to the movements of the pilots head, and of the identical weapons mounted at the very end of the stubby wings on fixed mounts.

The ship itself was vaguely reminiscent of a Raptor, sharing similar design principles, but it was larger and had smoother edges. Beside Apollo, Colonel Saul Tigh mumbled something under his breath. On the other side of Tigh, Admiral Adama stood impassively, keen eyes taking in every detail of the craft.

To Adama's right stood President Gaius Baltar and Vice-President Tom Zarek, and standing behind those two was ex-president Laura Roslin, present more by the courtesy of the Admiral than for any official business. And, of course, the craft itself was surrounded by deck hands, flight officers and Marines.

There were Marines stationed at every exit to the flight deck, and a six man unit standing with the military and civilian leadership of the Colonies, all armed with assault rifles and all ready for anything.

Apollo was pulled from his thoughts as a loud hiss came from the dropship as the vehicle equalized it's internal pressure with that of the _Galactica_'s flight deck, then a large, rear-mounted door opened swiftly and silently, and the Colonials got their first real look at the UNSC.

Two men dressed in combat fatigues and sporting advanced-looking body armour and shooter's glasses moved quickly out of the dropship, splitting up at the end of the short ramp, their odd looking weapons pointed unthreateningly at the ground. Apollo couldn't place it, but those weapons looked strange somehow…

He looked up as two more men stepped out of the back of the vehicle, both dressed in what was clearly their version of a dress uniform: dark grey slacks and light grey button-down dress jackets, polished black shoes and a light grey cap with a black bill. The jackets each sported numerous medals and campaign ribbons and were decorated with golden buttons and shoulder epaulettes, and on the right breast of each, as well as on the caps, were the letters 'UNSCDF', stretched across a banner underneath a planet upon which perched what appeared to be a large bird of some kind.

The two men halted, snapped to attention, and gave a near perfect simile of a Colonial salute to Admiral Adama, a gesture which the Old Man returned instinctively.

"Admiral Adama, sir? Permission to come aboard?," the man on the right asked, his hand dropping to his side.

"Permission granted. You're Commander Burrows, I assume?," Adama asked as the two men stepped down from the dropship and moved to stand closer to the Admiral. Two more men appeared from within the ship, sporting the same gear as the first two to appear.

"That's right, Admiral. To my left stands Colonel Thomas Locitz, the Commanding Officer of the UNSC Marine detachment aboard the _Magnus. _Behind us, waiting with the dropship, are the members of Spectre Team Nineteen, a Special Operations Division employed by the Office Of Naval Intelligence, lead by Sergeant Major James Allen," Burrows answered, and one of the men back at the dropship, sporting three pinkish horizontal scars on his face, nodded to the Colonial delegation.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. To my left are Colonel Saul Tigh, Executive Officer aboard the _Galactica_, and Commander Lee Adama, CO of the _Pegasus_," Adama paused as the men exchanged brief greetings with one another. "To my left are President Gaius Baltar and Vice-President Tom Zarek, as well as former president Laura Roslin."

Once again, greetings were exchanged, but Adama noticed that both the Commander and the Colonel appeared to be wary of President Baltar.

_Smart men_, Adama thought ruefully.

"Gentlemen, I can't thank you enough for the assistance you rendered the fleet against that unknown ship," Roslin said as she shook hands with Burrows, flashing a smile in Baltar's direction. The president looked flustered and angry for not having thought of saying anything like that himself, but suppressed it quickly.

"Commander Burrows, would you care to accompany us to my office so that we may speak with some privacy?," Admiral Adama asked, stepping in before Baltar could say anything.

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**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**Admiral Adama's Quarters**

Commander Burrows sipped cautiously at the alcoholic beverage called 'ambrosia' that he had been offered by the Admiral as he sat in the small but comfortable quarters of the man. It tasted like very sweet whiskey, and had a strong burn as it slid down his throat.

"Strong stuff," Burrows said, tipping his glass politely to the Admiral. "Reminds me of a sour mash whiskey from back home."

"So, Commander…how did you get such a high rank at such a young age?," Colonel Tigh asked somewhat suspiciously as he tossed back his own drink. Burrows frowned, a brief look of confusion crossing his face, before a glint of realisation appeared in his eyes.

_I should have realised that their medical technology would be behind ours_, he said to himself.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I should have guessed by the apparent technical base of your ships that our military technologies may not be the only thing the UNSC has that is more advanced than your own," Burrows said aloud. "Do not take that as an insult, this is a mighty fine beast of a ship you have here, and certainly an innovative design, but I doubt that with your current technology she could take on one of our light cruisers."

"Excuse me, Commander, I'm not sure what you're getting at," Baltar cut in before anyone could say anything else.

"Of course, I apologise for taking so long to get to my point. I am not young for my position, Colonel. In fact, I'm actually older-than-average for it. You see, I'm sixty-four years old, Colonel Tigh," Burrows answered, hoping that that little bombshell wouldn't upset things too much.

The room was completely silent, and Burrows had the feeling that he should be hearing crickets chirping somewhere in the background.

_Sixty-four! That's impossible, he doesn't even look any older than Lee_, Admiral Adama thought to himself, glancing between the surprised - and sceptical - look on his son's face and Burrows' own equally youthful features. Despite the infeasibility of the other man's statement, for some reason, Adama believed him.

Not so Colonel Tigh, unfortunately.

"Get the frak outta here! You honestly expect us to believe that you're older than I am?," Tigh grizzled out, refilling his glass and glaring at the Commander.

"Whether you choose to believe it or not, does not matter to me at this point in time," Burrows replied calmly. "What does matter right now is that we learn what we can about each other, because I don't know if I can trust you people yet and I'm sure you feel the same way."

"I agree," Zarek said, glancing at Baltar and Roslin, then to Adama. "The fact remains that although your actions almost certainly saved the fleet, we don't know what your intentions were, and still could be, after that."

"I'll be blunt here. We're lost, probably a very long way from home, and we were hoping to negotiate for some local star maps off of you," Burrows answered quickly, hoping to quell any thoughts the Colonials might have of the _Magnus _and her crew trying to kill them or conquer them.

"What about your ship?," Adama asked. "Where did it go?"

"Go?," Burrows said, looking at the Admiral in confusion. "She hasn't gone anywhere. I left her with strict orders to carry on with repairs and remain on station."

"The _Magnus _disappeared off our sensor screens during your transit here," Adama countered, sipping at his glass of ambrosia and keeping his eyes on Burrows' face. The other man was quiet for a time, seemingly thinking something over, then his face lit up.

"Ah!" he said. "Our passive ECM systems must have finally been repaired."

"Excuse me, what is 'ECM'?" Roslin asked, shifting her glasses on her nose and leaning closer to Burrows. Colonel Locitz leaned back a little in his seat, cleared his throat.

"ECM is an abbreviation for 'Electronic Counter-Measures', ma'am," he answered. "ECM makes it harder for enemy ships' sensors to find us, and for them to lock onto us with weapons. Because the _Magnus_ is a stealth cruiser, her passive systems are somewhat stronger than most other ships, and her active systems are stronger still."

"If the Magnus disappeared off your sensors at such close range, and only under passive stealth, then our tech base must be higher than yours by a greater margin than we initially thought," Burrows said, seemingly more to himself than to anyone else. He seemed to shake himself free from his thoughts, then turned to face the Admiral.

"As we've already established, we need to know more about each other. So, first things first: where are you from?" Burrows asked.

"Ah, the Twelve Colonies of Kobol," Apollo answered for his father. "What about you?"

"Well, I've never heard of Kobol before, but I _am_ from a colony. I was born on the fortress-world Bastion," Burrows answered, and looked surprise as the Colonials all seemed to deflate before his eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?," he asked, looking around the room at his hosts, before sharing a look with Locitz.

"No. No, it's just that we were hoping you were from the Thirteenth Tribe," Zarek answered. "Now, what about your technology? We've never seen anything like it, except in bad science fiction."

"I'm not exactly a quantum physicist, but I'll tell you what I can about our infantry hardware," Locitz offered. At Adama's nod of assent, Locitz waved Allen over from his post at the door with a pair of Colonial Marines.

"The Sergeant Major is equipped with only some of our basic equipment, so you'll have to bear with us a bit," Locitz said by way of apology for the small amount of information he could reveal about the gear Allen was carrying.

"Allen is wearing a titanium/ceramic composite trauma plat on his back, chest and shins, which provides excellent protection against projectile weaponry. The glasses he is wearing are Mark Six Seeker shooters' glasses, and come with an integrated heads-up display, featuring a targeting reticle to aid in aiming and an ammunition counter," Locitz explained, gesturing to the nominated pieces of equipment.

_Pretty advanced stuff_, Adama thought, nodding slightly to himself.

"…and, of course, the weapon slung over his shoulder," the Colonel continued, even as the Sergeant Major unslung his weapon and held it in a non-threatening pose. "Is the LAR-90 pulse laser rifle."

"Pulse laser?" Apollo queried, a confused look crossing his face. "You brought training weapons with you?"

"Training weapons?" Allen answered. "Commander Adama, I can assure that this rifle is just as deadly as any projectile-based system you would care to name."

"This is preposterous!" Baltar snorted. "You can't really expect us to believe that you have, in your very hands, an energy-based weapon. The power requirements alone for such a thing discredit you."

"Really?" Allen shot back. "If you don't have energy weapons then I guess energy shields are something you've never even considered. So, if energy weapons and shields are preposterous, perhaps you'd care to explain why your fleet couldn't even scratch that alien ship?"

Everyone was silent at that, and Adama looked around the room, gauging everyone else's reactions. Baltar still looked sceptical, but Zarek and Roslin both appeared contemplative. Burrows and Locitz appeared to be doing their very best to relax in their chairs, Tigh was knocking back another drink, and Apollo appeared to be pretty much sold on what the Sergeant Major had said.

"Dad, he's right," Apollo said, leaning over to whisper in the older Adama's ear. "Gun cam footage from the _Vipers_ confirms it: something was definitely protecting the unknown fighters from harm, and it took a lot of hits from their KEWs to do anything more than bounce away."

Adama nodded, and opened his mouth to say something back, when he was cut off by Baltar again.

"Aliens? Do you take us for fools? Colonial history confirms that no alien races have ever been discovered!"

"There's a first time for everything, Mister President," Allen ground out, sending a glare to the other man that made him firmly clamp his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but something you said earlier has been bothering me," Roslin spoke up, breaking the silence that followed Baltar's out burst and Allen's reprimand.

"What would that be, Miss Roslin?" Burrows asked, placing his glass on the low coffee table in front of him.

"You said you had never heard of Kobol, but that you were born on a colony I've never heard of before. If your colony wasn't founded by Kobol, then what world was it founded by?"

Everyone seemed surprised at the question, and the Colonials all leaned in closer to the Commander, waiting for his reply.

"Bastion is the closest extra-solar colony from our home system, Sol. The world from which we originated from is commonly known as Terra, although some people still insist on calling it Earth," Burrows answered, and again silence reigned. Then, with such suddenness that Allen very nearly flicked off the safety of his rifle, the Colonials broke into smiles and cheering.

"What did I say?," Burrows said, astonished as Laura Roslin crushed Tom Zarek in a hug.

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**Magna Carne (AKA 'First City), Capital of Eden Prime**

**City Limits**

Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Clements grunted as he hefted the artillery magazine, the two privates with him struggling under the weight. The magazine contained eight 155mm for the H-MAP-197 Heavy Mobile Artillery Platform that sat with its three brothers, shelling the inner city.

The artillery crews had burned through thousands of rounds in support of the Marines and PDF troopers fighting it out in close quarters deep in the city, but the L-MS-MAP-209 artillery had dropped tens of thousands of 40mm air-bursting shells into the city.

The Light MetalStorm Mobile Artillery Platform was based around a very old - but very effective - design created by MetalStorm Industries, based out of Brisbane in Australia back on Earth. The weapon itself had twenty-four barrels, each one firing from its own magazine of thirty-two shells, and the whole platform was able to belt out an impressive three thousands rounds per minute. Which made it the perfect anti-infantry artillery unit, but somewhat inefficient in terms of ammunition consumption.

All around Clements, dozens of artillery batteries thumped, hammering the once-proud city to dust from a distance. From reports coming from the frontlines, it was obvious that the Jaffa had never before encountered either artillery or armoured vehicles, which gave the defenders an enormous tactical edge.

Unfortunately, that edge had been offset by the enormous numbers of Jaffa that were constantly pouring into the city. There were three-thousand-five-hundred Marines and eight thousand PDF troopers in Magna Carne, but Intel's best estimates put the current Jaffa numbers at just shy of fifty thousand, and while the defenders were holding their ground, they certainly weren't actually pushing the attackers back.

"Loading incendiary!," shouted one of the men at the H-MAPs, and two more men rushed in and loaded a four round magazine of Napalm incendiary rounds. Clements winced; if the higher ups had authorised the use of Napalm, things were obviously getting desperate in the city.

Clements and the two privates finally reached their gun, loaded in the fresh magazine. Almost as soon as the magazine was loaded, the enormous gun thundered twice in rapid succession, and somewhere, many kilometres off in the distance, a dozen Jaffa met bloody ends.

"Sir!" Clements turned around, saw his aide, Corporal Tarner, heading for him. "Colonel Clements! It's happening!"

"Calm down, corporal. What's happening?"

"HQ just got a burst communication from one of the recon drones in the system. It was from Vice-Admiral Porcini," the younger man answered.

"_Vice_-Admiral? I thought Porcini was a Rear-Admiral," Clements asked, to which Tarner shook his head emphatically.

"Not anymore, sir. HICOM bumped his rank," he replied. "But that's not important, sir. Porcini is launching Redemption!"

Clements looked at Tarner, stupefied for a moment, before the news finally hit him. Clements said nothing, but took off at a dead run towards the HQ tent, Tarner hot on his heels, thinking back on what Redemption was.

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**Magna Carne (AKA 'First City), Capital of Eden Prime**

**City Limits**

**48 Hours Earlier**

"…we've been heavily reinforced, but most of our new units are designed for anti-raider duty. Until Bastion FLEETCOM is able to get some more of our heavier units out of mothballs, we'll just have to make do and accept our losses."

Clements watched the recording closely, and beside him General T'Terak squinted his large eyes, the Tau examining Artemis Porcini's face just as intently. The older Admiral sighed, removed his cap, and ran his hand over his smooth, bald head.

"I'm not going to lie to you, gentlemen; this operations success rate is very low, even in our best simulations. We've got some superdreadnoughts here, and plenty of carriers, but given the enemy's speed, it is inevitable that we must close with him to knife-fight range. We intend to tie their ships down in orbit for as long as possible."

Clements glanced around the room, taking in the sombre and sullen faces of the twelve highest ranking people within three hundred kilometres of First City.

"…I understand that the anti-orbit cannon in the Aleggra Mountains was offline at the time of the invasion for maintenance. We need that gun online to provide a distraction for our fast-movers to get in close so we can launch dropships and OHEVs with reinforcements for the ground fighting. Once our superdreadnoughts have flushed their external missile racks, I will send you a transmission telling you to activate the cannon."

Glancing down at his hands, Clements saw the faint tremble of excitement. For just over a week now, the men and women of Eden Prime had fought against the invaders. It was pure luck that none of the ships in orbit had fired on ground targets.

"…calling the operation Redemption, in honour of the battleship that died defending your world in orbit. Make no mistake, gentlemen. We will have only one chance to pull this off. If we don't get this right the first time, it could be weeks - maybe even months - before the fleet has enough strength to try this again. You have your orders, gentlemen. When we are ready to launch Redemption, I will send a burst transmission. Good luck, and God bless."

Admiral Porcini's face disappeared from the holo-display, and Clements sighed. He would have preferred a direct-link FTL communication, but a burst communication on riding a whisker-thin laser com bead was virtually undetectable, and he understood the need for secrecy in this matter.

Still, now they had something to look forward to, and now they had a definite goal to settle on: getting the massive anti-orbit cannon ready for a fight.

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**Magna Carne (AKA 'First City), Capital of Eden Prime**

**City Limits**

**Present**

Clements burst through the open tent 'door' to the HQ and immediately began shouting orders to the artillery co-ordinators. They had only three hours before the first SD showed up in Eden space, and they had a lot of work to do before then.

"Break out the reserve munitions! Anything we have left, I don't care, we need it all!" Clements shouted to be heard over the other commanders in the HQ tent, all co-ordinating a counter attack on the Jaffa to serve as an extra distraction.

"Sir, should we maintain our fire or slacken it off to preserve more munitions?," a young Tau female asked as she scribbled down munitions stores calculations on a pad.

Clements thought it over, but quickly dismissed it. "No, if we slacken off they might think we're up to something. We want them to think we're on the defensive for as long as possible before we launch our attack."

The Tau nodded, then intently went back to her calculations. Across the room, Clements caught the eye of General T'Terak, and the unusually tall Tau immediately began moving towards him.

"General," Clements said by way of greeting.

"Good tidings are upon us, Lieutenant-Colonel. I have just finalised a plan for a combined arms blitzkrieg into the city; our infantry will remain as they are, holding key points in the city, but our tank divisions and battle-suit squadrons will be moving against the enemy within the hour," T'Terak said, blinking slowly as he stared out at the fields of artillery units.

"That's excellent news, sir. We have enough reserve munitions for our artillery to support your advance with constant fire for six and a half hours, give or take a few minutes, sir," Clements replied, gesturing out at his artillery units.

"Very good. Colonel Tashimi should be reaching his objective shortly," T'Terak replied, referring to the human who was leading a small group of Marines into the mountainside to activate the anti-orbit cannon. Without air support, Tashimi had had to go in on foot, and had been travelling through the dense jungle that surrounded the base of the nearby mountains, under which were ancient alien bunkers that the civilians were using for cover during the fighting.

"Then all that's left is to wait," Clements nodded.

"Yes, Lieutenant-Colonel. Wait, and pray."

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The jostling of the tank didn't bother Michael Cortez anymore; he had gotten used to it during the days since his café shoot-out. They had entered the jungle without too much trouble, and were now less than an hour away from the bunkers.

Matthias Hennes had decided that he and his tank were better put to use escorting civilians to the bunkers than attempting urban combat, seeing as the Myrmidon medium tanks were designed for open warfare.

Although he knew that the chances of him stumbling across Emily as soon as they arrived at the bunkers, Cortez couldn't help the little knot if excitement that rested in his belly at the thought of seeing her again.

The tank had essentially made its own path through the forest, trampling trees and any creatures unfortunate - or stupid - enough to get in their way, and the only reason they knew they were going in the right direction was because the Aleggra Mountains lay directly North of Magna Carne, and according to their compasses, they were going directly North.

K'Ton grumbled something about insects as he slapped violently at the nape of his neck, then turned to face Cortez.

"Do you think we are close to the bunkers yet, Michael?" he queried, slapping at his arm.

"Couldn't tell you, but I guess we have to be pretty close by now," Cortez answered, glancing around at the other people with him; a handful of civvies and four Marines, all of them riding on the outside of the tank.

"Well, I'd guess maybe another hour or two," Sergeant Randy Peters grumbled as he shifted around in his powered armour.

"Good, because I grow weary of these-"

K'Ton's reply was cut off as he was suddenly surrounded by rings of golden light, and disappeared from sight. Cortez made to stand, but then he too was engulfed in the light, and everything went black.

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"Greetings, Reclaimers! Oh, I'm so happy you finally decided to come visit me!"

Cortez didn't recognise the voice, but he blinked groggily as he turned to face the speaker. And blinked again. Then raised his laser rifle to aim at the droid in front of him.

"What the fuck are you?," he growled out, then glanced to his left were he saw K'Ton squatting and clutching his head, clearly feeling ill. He glanced to his right and saw the armoured form of Randy Peters, also aiming his weapon at the floating basketball-sized machine.

"I am Five-Oh-Fifty-One Reticent Observer, the Monitor of this installation," the little yellow ball answered, the glowing light that looked similar to an eye brightening and dulling as it spoke.

"Installation? Where are we?" Peters asked, shuffling closer to the robot.

"Why, the Shield, of course."

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A/N: Sorry for the short update this time, but a number of very bad things have kept me away from working on most of my projects.

Next chapter will feature the attempt to liberate Eden Prime, bring us back around to the Covenant and have the Prometheus's findings revealed. And maybe a few surprises along the way…

On a sadder note, if anyone is the praying type out there, I'd like to ask that you spare a thought for Rohan Kelly, my next-door neighbours son, who drowned early on New Years day, just twenty months old.


	12. Operation Redemption, Part One

Disclaimer: You all know what I do and do not own by now, so I won't go through it all again.

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**3 Parsecs from Knossos System**

**Deep Recon/Early Warning System Patrol, **_**Darden-**_**Class Destroyer **_**Prometheus**_

**Captain Michael Jankowski Commanding**

For two standard days, they had just sat there, doing nothing. Well, that wasn't entirely true; there were now three more of the weird angelfish-like ships holding station with the one the _Prometheus_ had accidentally engaged.

The heavy cruiser _Minnesota_, two light cruisers and two more destroyers had arrived as well, but there had been no communications between the two task forces, although there had been unusually high amounts of tachyon particle radiation being dispersed between the angelfish ships.

Jankowksi was in his quarters, and he was in trouble. Again.

"You fired on a completely unknown ship, for no reason other than it failed to communicate with you," Commodore Hafezi Feridoun Al-Asad stated bluntly as he seated himself behind Jankowksi's desk. "You realise, of course, that had they been a SOCOM cruiser on a Black Ops assignment, not only would you have lost your job, you would also have cost me mine."

"Sir, I-"

"I am not finished yet, Captain," Al-Asad said, voice low with barely concealed rage. "And surely you must know that they could have - and may very well have - construed it as an act of war, whomever _they_ are."

"I'm afraid you leave me with no choice, Captain," Al-Asad continued, tenting his long, bony fingers in front of him and letting out a sigh. "You are hereby relieved of duty until further notice, and command of the _Prometheus _will be passed on to your XO. Is there anything you wish to add, Captain Jankowski?"

Jankowski grit his teeth and glared at Al-Asad ; he had done what was right, and he was being punished for it! Again!

"Sir," Jankowski ground out, struggling with his own rage and not hiding it as well as the Commodore had. "If they'd had peaceful intentions, they should have dropped their ECM and let me have a gander at them, at the very least. And I gave them plenty of time to respond to my hails."

Al-Asad leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. "You say they should have lowered their ECM, yet in response to _their _arrival, you increased _your_ ECM to max, raised shields _and _powered weapons. And I hardly think that sixty seconds is enough time for anyone to learn enough about Standard English to possibly be able to respond to your hails. Captain, understand me, I am a fair man, but I will not suffer incompetence or insubordination. These past weeks, you have shown a proficiency for both."

Jankowski seethed behind a face that was outwardly calm and collected as Al-Asad continued to speak.

"I am giving you a chance to explain your actions in detail, an opportunity for you to redeem yourself of this. Fail to impress me, however," Al-Asad warned. "And not even that ass of an uncle of yours will be able to save your Fleet career."

Jankowski allowed the vaguest hint of indignation to flare at the mention of his uncle, the one man in all of the Senate that was despised by not only Fleet personnel, but also other Senators: Andrew Warren.

If Jankowski were to be brutally honest with himself, which he rarely was, he would have acknowledged long ago the fact that the only reason he had passed Officer Candidacy School back on Bastion was because his uncle had pulled quite a few strings called in some favours. Even if he had managed to pass OCS by himself, he would probably have never made captain.

But the fact was, he had made captain. He had a crew and a ship to look after, and despite everything, he _had _learned a great deal from other Fleet officers. Granted, most of them were REMF political officers, but they had still had plenty to teach, and had found a willing student in then-Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Michael Jankowski.

The captain drew on all the experiences he'd had in the past, all the lessons he'd learned from those officers, and visibly cringed, albeit only slightly, when he came up blank. He could think of no logical excuse for what he'd done, other than his own ambition, and indeed, recklessness.

He looked at the Commodore, suddenly calm, without anger, disgust for the cautious ways of Fleet officers, or the faint hatred he usually felt for someone the same age or younger than him in a higher position of command authority; Al-Asad was only one year his senior, which had been close enough to Jankowski's own thirty-eight years for him still hold resentment for the other man.

"I have nothing further to say, sir," Jankowski said in an emotionless monotone, as befitted an officer of the Fleet when speaking formally to a senior officer. "In this case, you are correct in assuming incompetence on my part, and you were also correct that no one could possibly have translation software for a language they've never heard."

Jankowski felt a faint pride as he took in the stunned look on Al-Asad's face; the other man had clearly expected the usual bout of threats or poor excuses that came whenever a true Fleet officer dressed-down an REMF officer.

"Therefore, I see that the best course of action is the one you've laid out; I hereby accept duty-relief and officially hand over command of the UNS _Prometheus_ to Lieutenant-Colonel Xing. Is there anything further you wish to address, Commodore Al-Asad ?," Jankowski asked, managing not to feel in the least bit smug over the fact that the commodore had yet to fully recover from his shock.

"No…No, Captain Jankowski, there will be nothing further. Dismiss," Al-Asad replied, shaking his head slightly. And as Captain Jankowski about faced and exited the room, he couldn't help think that just maybe, the other man had just taken his first steps toward becoming the officer he fancied himself as.

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**Minbari **_**Sharlin**_**-class Warcruiser **_**The Grey Sharlin**_** (AKA **_**Valen'tha**_**)**

**26 light-years from Minbar, unexplored space**

Were it not for the presence of the Grey Council, Shai Alyt Kadaan of the Warrior Caste would surely have blown the smaller vessel that had dared fire on the _Valen'tha _to smithereens. But the Worker and Religious Caste members of the Council had overruled the more…vigilant Warrior Caste members.

Now Kadaan stared at the holographic representation of the starscape that surrounded the _Valen'tha_, at the three other _Sharlin_ Warcruisers that had assembled from the system the _Valen'tha_ had been dispatched from in an attempt to hide the ship and its passengers from the damnable cats who had been probing said system of late.

True, the Dilgar were quickly losing their ill-conceived war against the Minbari, their lesser technologies only just barely offset by sheer numbers, but they had been known to pull victory from the jaws of defeat on several occasions, and on those occasions, the morale of the Religious and Worker Castes had been crushed, and the vigour with which the Warriors pursued the war slackened.

It was the war, he'd been told, that signalled the opening stages of the Shadows return to this galaxy. When the Minbari won, and the Shadows made their return, they would face battle-hardened Warriors and the powerful fleets of Minbar while the Vorlons struck them from behind as the Minbari fleets held the line, as they had done in the days of Valen.

Now, though, there were these new ships. The one which had fired on them - an incident which, he had been assured by the Workers who had deciphered the message and what was evidently a First Contact package, was originally meant as a warning shot, which had fouled up thanks to the Minbari stealth fields - had been reinforced quite heavily.

Kadaan was more than confident that the four _Sharlins _would be able to defeat them if it came to a fight, but the Worker and Religious leaders were determined to open channels and speak with the aliens.

"Shai Alyt, we are ready to begin transmitting to the aliens if you wish to be present," a voice broke Kadaan out of his reverie, and he turned to face the Religious Caste Council Member, Satai Berenn, who had pushed much harder than anyone else to attempt peaceful contact with the aliens.

"Of course, Satai," Kadaan answered graciously, and began to follow the Satai to the _Valen'tha_'s command centre.

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**Heavy Cruiser **_**Minnesota**_**, Bridge**

The _Minnesota_ was one of the new _Halberdier_-class heavy cruisers, a Seventh Generation starship class, much like the _Darden_ destroyers which had entered mass-production just over eight months ago and were already replacing the majority of the older _Sultan_-class Sixth Generation destroyers.

Viewed from the outside, the _Minnesota_ looked very much like the Sixth Gen _Kodiak_-class heavy cruisers, but the similarities ended with the blocky, malformed hull. Powered by two Helium-3 fusion reactors with three Deuterium/Tritium fusion reactors as backup power sources, the _Halberdiers_ were able to produce nearly three times as much power as the older hydro-fusion reactors, at the cost of radiation emissions.

The more powerful, albeit 'dirty' reactors allowed for enhanced shield strength and energy weapons power, as well as better ECM and point-defences, and could also allow for an eight percent higher hyper speed than previous models of heavy cruisers and nearly thirty percent greater maintainable sub-light speeds.

Right now, the hull, made from a classified form of composite alloy construction, was being bombarded with Tachyon particles.

"Is it an attack?," Al-Asad asked his Sensor crew, looking at his own displays. Tachyons, Al-Asad knew, were a highly advanced form of communications and scanning systems, but could also, theoretically, make devastating weapons.

The only reason the Allies hadn't pursued the technology was that subspace communications arrays and scanners were more effective, albeit more energy intensive. And given the plethora of advanced weapons technology already at their disposal, Allied scientists sought to improve upon their current designs more often than pursuing new ones.

"If it is, it isn't very effective, sir," one of the ensigns answered, the younger mans hawk-like nose twitching as he examined his readouts. "My best guess would be either an intensive scan or an attempt on the aliens part to communicate with us."

"Any way we can compensate our arrays to accept tachyon-based communiqués?," Al-Asad asked. The UNSC ships had attempted to communicate several times with the aliens, to no apparent avail, which meant that either the aliens weren't able to receive subspace comms or that they were still translating Standard English. Or that they just didn't want to talk, or even that they used a different form of communication. Or a number of any other things, the possibilities were more numerous than Al-Asad cared for.

"Yes sir, although we never pursued the technology, we did make it possible for us to accept communicates based on tachyons in the event that we might run across an advanced alien race that had pursued the tech," Commander Alison Dumont answered, in her usual incessantly matter-of-fact way. Were it not for the fact that she made an excellent XO, Al-Asad would have lost his patience with her long ago.

"It won't take but a moment, sir," the ensign said, tapping diligently away at his console. After a short while, a hologram flickered to life in the centre of the room, with the flickering, grainy image of what looked vaguely human, but was clearly not, taking prominence.

"Greet in name Weyland," the distorted voice of the equally distorted image stated, and Al-Asad frowned as he wondered who the hell 'Weyland' was.

"That the best their translators could do?," the commodore asked no one in particular, only to have Dumont answer his rhetoric as the image continued to flicker.

"Now that they're speaking to us, our translators can start compiling data. With enough of it, we can have a decent translation program within the next couple of days. Hours, if we still had an AI," she said, and forced Al-Asad to close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose as the XO reminded him of the 'death' of his previous AI, a poor program, that while not blessed with true sentience, had been a close almost-friend of Al-Asad's for nearly five years. Her data breakdown had been most regrettable, and Al-Asad was still waiting on his replacement.

"We Minbar, who you?," the hologram sputtered out, and Hafezi Feridoun Al-Asad sighed at the realisation that any way he looked at this situation, it was going to be a long day.

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**Orbit of Eden Prime**

**Apophis' Flagship**

Ry'ac stood before a great window, looking upon the beautiful world which had caused so much trouble for the Union's armies. Apophis' goal here had been simple in theory; invade the world, capture humans for questioning, wait for Anubis to decide whether or not the world was worth keeping.

In practice, it was proving to be a much more formidable goal, which served only to irritate Apophis and raised Ry'ac's hopes of freeing his people Goa'uld. Causalities for the Jaffa warriors down on the surface had been nearly three times greater than expected thus far, and the Udajeet had been completely recalled when it had become apparent that the human anti-aircraft defences could shoot them down in their droves, while the gliders themselves had no appreciable affect on the fighting.

The humans were deploying weapons that Ry'ac had never even imagined before; great guns that could lob explosive ordnance over enormous distances, automated machines that were small enough to easily ambush Jaffa teams, moving ground vehicles that alone could take on dozens of Jaffa and the demoralizing ranks of massive humanoid machines that were so heavily armed as to make an Al'kesh disappear in a cloud of plasma in moments.

Worse still for the Jaffa was the fact that where the humans had dug into a defensive position, any and all attempts to force them out were ineffectual and inflicted heavy losses on the attackers. All this made it inevitable that Anubis would send more ships to reinforce the fleet, and each of those ships had carried over a hundred of the Kull warriors first used by Apophis in the war against the Wraith.

Even as Ry'ac watched, massed ranks of these near-invincible super-soldiers were being deployed to the sole city that had been invaded in force, the other cities only receiving minor attention from the Union's armies.

"First Prime?," an underling broke Ry'ac's reverie, and he turned to face the one who spoke.

"What is it?"

"Our sensors have detected hyperspace windows some distance from the fleet, and there are no further reinforcements scheduled," the underling answered as the two men began heading for the flagships bridge.

"Human ships?," Ry'ac questioned, restraining the sliver of hope that threatened to enter his voice. He had been waiting, indeed nearly praying for the humans to launch their counter-attack. Even if he should perish in the fighting, it would serve to reassure him that his people might someday be free, and that the humans were the ones to give them the final push in the right direction that was necessary.

"Undoubtedly," the underling answered immediately. "We have also detected a large force of human vehicles moving toward the staging area outside the largest city."

_It can't be a coincidence that the humans on the ground would launch a counter-attack at the same time as the one up here_, Ry'ac thought. _They must have been in communication with each other._

Finally reaching the pel'tac of the flagship, Ry'ac moved immediately to the nearest sensor console and stared hard at the readouts. Eight contacts, marked as unknown. He watched, stupefied, as the readings cleared up somewhat, and the computer system gave an estimate to size and tonnage of the vessels.

"That cannot be right," Ry'ac whispered to himself. "No ship is that big."

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Superdreadnoughts, as a general rule, remained in mothball yards during peace-time, as the sheer volume of firepower they could lay down had them tagged as 'weapons of planetary destruction'. That connotation had been proven during the Alkaid War, when one of the captured planets in the Mercon system, revealing no human life but more than a billion of the dog-like aliens, had been bombarded from orbit by a lone SD. The planet, and its population, had been reduced to molten slag in less than three hours.

That incident had also led to limitations on the SDs missile armament; although their massed missile salvoes were enormous, no SD was permitted to carry the monstrously powerful 'anti-shield' nukes that carried a 600 megaton warhead. Instead, they carried fifty megaton warheads, which, while significantly less powerful, took up thirty-five percent less magazine space per missile than the AS nukes, allowing for more of them to be launched at once, as well as a faster reload time.

Naturally, all those missiles needed storage space, which explained the mass of super-strong alloys that was four-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninety-eight metres long, seventeen-hundred-and-fifty metres wide and fifteen hundred metres from ventral to dorsal.

Superdreadnoughts were generally used as massive space based artillery platforms, thanks to the sixteen light-second range of their missiles and the simple fact that they were able to launch so many in such a short time - three-hundred-and-twelve in their opening salvo - but they could also be used as main combatants as well, given their smaller-but-still-formidable energy weapon batteries and immensely powerful shields.

Rear Admiral Edward Shrote, running his lights from the UNS _Indestructible_, was more than willing to begin the opening stages of Vice-Admiral Porcini's 'shock and awe' oriented operation, but Porcini himself had been ordered by bureaucrats from Camden to give the Goa'uld an ultimatum, which amounted to 'leave or die'.

"We're set up and good to go, sir," the lieutenant at Communications said, swivelling in her seat to face Shrote. "It's ready to broadcast when you are, sir."

"Excellent. Have we identified the flagship?," Shrote asked Sensors. The ensign there shook his head.

"Not yet, sir, but we have identified over thirty ships of unknown classification in orbit around the planet. Computer has tagged them as battleship analogues, sir," the younger man replied, before projecting his display up onto the main holo-display.

A large planetary body appeared, surrounded by hundreds of tiny yellow dots; hostile ships all. The areas on the planet with confirmed enemy activity were also marked yellow, with Allied areas marked a vibrant green. The unknown ships, all surrounded by hordes of light and heavy cruiser analogues and scores of gunboats, flashed red.

"Get a targeting solution that plots best paths to those ships; they're an unknown so I want them taken out as early as possible. I don't want to risk engaging them up close until we find out what they're capable of in a less critical mission," Shrote ordered Fire Control. "Send the recorded message to all enemy ships, then prepare to fire immediately following when they don't listen."

Rounds of 'yes-sirs' answered him; no one was under any illusions that the enemy fleet would just retreat at the sight of the eight SDs that would be the first phase of Operation Redemption.

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"First Prime, a transmission from the enemy ships," a Jaffa underling called out to Ry'ac. Ry'ac turned towards the small screen that flickered briefly before playing the message from the humans on those mammoth ships.

"Ships of the Goa'uld Union," the voice of a human male erupted from the speakers. "I am giving you one chance to leave this world and never return. Comply and you will live. Do not, and we will show you the meaning of the word 'war'."

The screen blacked out, and as Ry'ac contemplated the words of the human and the numbers of Jaffa that were likely to die at the behest of false gods, he began to feel sick.

"Fools," Apophis said from behind him. "They dare threaten a God? Destroy them!"

"At once, My Lord," Ry'ac said, not believing what he was about to order even as he connect to the other Goa'uld ships. "All ships, attack now."

_And may the True Gods forgive us…_

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Pandemonium. That was the first word to come to Vice-Admiral Artemis Porcini's mind as the _Relentless_ jolted out of hyperspace in time to see nearly twenty-five hundred nuclear missiles streak away from the eight superdreadnoughts under his command.

Given the range, of course, it would be nearly thirty seconds by the time the missiles reached their targets, and another fifteen before the light of those detonations would reach Porcini's fleet.

Although Porcini's command included more than seven hundred ships, most of those had been left behind with the ammunition colliers and mobile repair yards in the void between star systems, for the simple fact that they were too small to be of any real use in this engagement. Nothing smaller than a light cruiser was actually in-system, and they were tasked to stay back with the SDs and provide close support.

The ships that would be leading the charge, so to speak, were the nine dreadnoughts, seventeen battleships, twenty-three battle cruisers and fifty-six heavy cruisers, a pitifully small force considering the enemy was fielding over one thousand ships.

The ships of Porcini's under strength battleline formed up into a sphere, with the dreadnoughts in the centre and the heavy cruisers on the outside, then began adding their own, smaller missile salvoes to the weight of fire the SDs had put down.

Porcini stood on his flag bridge, hands clasped behind his back, and a ghost of a smile flickered across his face as the first missiles began impacting on their targets.

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**Eden Prime, Surface**

**Aleggra Mountain Range**

"We've received the Go codes, sir," Lieutenant (J.G) Ally Matheson said, turning to face the Colonel in charge.

"Very good, begin loading the bay and prepare to fire on designated orbital targets," Colonel Ketsuo Makahasi Tashimi, 'Mack' to his friends, ordered, never looking away from the display even as the Instacrete walls around him rumbled and dust fell from the ceiling as the enormous anti-orbit cannon rose up out of the ground, the five hundred foot barrel swivelling on its gimble ever-so-slightly to point up into the heavens.

Hundreds of feet below, at the massive 'breach' of the great gun, auto-loading systems hefted a bulldozer-size nuclear warhead into the chamber. As the auto-loader arms retreated through a side entry, the entryway closed over and incredibly powerful magnetic and plasma containment fields sprang up around the cavernous chamber, while focussing crystals lining the interior of the barrel arranged themselves just-so, ensuring the successful firing of the powerful but notoriously delicate weapon system.

"Everybody, brace yourselves!," Mack shouted, slapping an alarm button. "Firing sequence begins in five seconds!"

Back in the chamber, the one point eight gigaton warhead detonated, its titanic energies compressing against the containment fields and shaking the entire mountain range. Those energies continued compressing themselves, building enormous pressure, before a small opening in the fields appeared and all that energy raced up the length of the barrel, the focussing crystals doing their job and further intensifying the energy of the weapon.

An invisible spear of energy, moving at light-speed, shot up from the surface of the planet and pierced a single standard Ha'tak, annihilating it's shields while still in their start-up sequence and obliterating its hull in a single stroke. The line of energy continued on, battering against the shields of an upgraded Ha'tak before expending itself entirely.

"Confirmed hit, sir, we got a kill," the lieutenant cried out exultantly, beaming first at her screen, then at her commanding officer.

"Good work, people," Mack answered, letting a thin-lipped smile grace his features. "Set the weapon to auto-fire and pack it up, we need to move on."

The orders were carried out in a hurry; no one wanted to stick around long enough to find out if the enemy had the same qualms about firing into the mountains that they seemed to have for the cities.

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"Magnificent weapons, those anti-orbit lasers," Porcini observed as the light of the destroyed Ha'tak reached his eyes thirty-two seconds after the ships actual demise. The sensors were running in real time, so the destruction of that ship and the three score or so others was old news, but Porcini rather preferred watching the events unfold with his own eyes. When the range closed, all of his attention would be focussed on the tactical displays.

It was true that Porcini, and indeed most Naval officers, admired the power of the anti-orbit lasers. Bomb-pumped X-Ray lasers were just a little to unstable for shipboard duty; after all, no one wanted to risk the destruction of his ship every time he fired its weapons. The chance of the containment fields failing was low, but still high enough that no ship had ever mounted bomb-pumped weapons.

"What's the status on Phase Two?," he asked his shipboard AI, Catalina, whose avatar depicted a Spanish woman of obviously well-off descent, in a regal gown and wearing a tiara. An odd AI, but one that the crew all loved like one of the family despite her quirks.

"The carriers should be making transit in…three, two, one," Catalina answered, a smug look crossing her features as, right on cue, three super carriers, eleven assault carriers, eight fleet carriers and twenty-two light carriers exited hyperspace simultaneously just over a light second away, sixteen degrees below the plane of the ecliptic at the _Relentless'_ eleven o'clock.

Those forty-four carriers launched a combined total of more than eleven-hundred and fifty fighter and bomber craft before returning to the swirling subspace 'layer' known as hyperspace.

"Phase Two complete, carriers returning for in eighty minutes," Catalina reported, informing the Admiral as to when Phase Four could begin. After eighty minutes of combat flying, the pilots of all those birds would be tired, but those carriers wouldn't be returning just for collection. The ammunition colliers three parsecs distant also carried over six hundred more fighters and their pilots, so when the carriers returned they would be bringing fresh crews to the fight. After that, the pilots would be rotating, always with at least one third of the total fighter strength in the air. All this was assuming, of course, Porcini's fleet was able to last eight minutes.

"Excellent, please inform me when we are ready for Phase Three," Porcini answered distractedly, his eyes turning to the tactical display as the first enemy ships entered the Allied energy weapon envelope.

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Elder M'Iktah watched impassively as blood red streams of light-energy stabbed and probed at the writhing mass of enemy ships that bore down on his superdreadnought, the _Sian'pah_, named for the greatest Elder ever to live, the one who brought peace to all Tia'n'vau.

Beams of light erupted from the SDs surrounding _Sian'pah_, and the smaller dreadnoughts and battleships spoke as well. His eyes watered as he stared out at the monstrously bright explosions of photonic energy meetingplasmatic energy in cataclysmic eruptions of soundless carnage. Shields wore down, ships were destroyed as missile fire continued to roar in, laser beams tore apart superstructures, but not once did the enemy falter. For that, M'Iktah was grateful.

The Elder's youngest daughter had settled on Eden Prime some twenty years ago, and as far as he knew, was still on the planet at the time of the invasion. Great Elder himself only knew what had become of her and her family.

Finally, the Elder blinked his large eyes, and to the outside observer it appeared as though he were crying. The outside observer would have been very wrong; he rejoiced at every destroyed enemy ship, at every life snuffed out as the power to destroy entire worlds was brought to bear on those ships.

"Elder, the enemy is sending fighters and gunboats ahead to challenge us," a youngling spoke to M'Iktah with due reverence for one of his age.

"Fire our forward AFM batteries in conjunction with the other ships, then let the fighters deal with them," M'Iktah ordered, his gaze never wavering from his tactical display. After several seconds, uncountable new icons appeared momentarily on the display; the anti-fighter missiles the superdreadnoughts had launched to meet their opposition raced ahead in their legions, tearing hundreds of fighters and scores of gunboats from existence in explosions so small they only made the ones amongst the larger ships seem bigger.

Finally, the enemy ships entered their own range, and golden bolts of plasma began to answer the Allied ships fire. Only one ship was lost In the opening salvoes of the enemy. The Tau battle cruiser _Cirian _was destroyed with all hands as it was targeted by more than two dozen Ha'tak. But the enemy had bled for that kill, and now that they were in range for their own weapons, the were also in range for devastating broadsides from ships several times the tonnage of any Goa'uld ship yet seen, barring perhaps the new battleship analogues.

The _Sian'pah _shuddered mightily as her shields repelled a dozen hits from the inaccurate but powerful energy weapons that the enemy relied upon solely for fleet engagements, then shuddered again as she answered her assailants with a broadside that swiped four Ha'tak down in one fell stroke.

_You are bloodthirsty today, Great Elder_, M'Iktah spoke to his both the spirit of Sian'pah and the ship that bore his name. _There is plenty more, drink your fill._

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**Eden Prime, Surface**

**Twenty-Nine point Four kilometres beneath Aleggra Mountains**

Michael Cortez sat, stupefied, staring at the enormous real-time holographic depiction of what was going on in space. He had asked all he could of the Monitor, learning of the great, ancient race that had actually _built_ this world, this artificial planet that equalled Terra in size.

He had learned of the other great races, the arrogant-but-benevolent Lanteans, the infant Asgard and the curious Talahyn, whom the Monitor had surmised as being the beings humans had long known as the 'Progenitors'. And despite the incredible things he had been told, it all paled in comparison to what he was seeing now.

With each blink of light that marked a destroyed ship, hundreds, maybe even thousands of people died. True, most of the destroyed ships thus far had been Goa'uld vessels, but more and more Allied ships were blinking away, the emotionless hologram doing nothing to quell the torrent of emotion Cortez felt.

K'Ton sat beside him, equally silent, his large eyes taking it all in. Randy Peters shuffled at the edge of Cortez's vision, the bulky power armour clunking quietly against the metallic surfaces of the floor. This place, they had been told, was part of the vast catacombs of underground bunkers in which the majority of Eden Prime's residents now huddled.

"Can we do something?," Cortez asked the gently humming orb behind him. "Something to help them?"

"Perhaps. Originally, this installation was armed only lightly, as it was assumed that fleets of warships and attack drones would orbit it while my creators took shelter from the firings," Reticent Observer answered. Several times now, it had made references to 'firings', but Cortez had never found out what it was that had been fired, and why an entire planet was necessary to act as a shield against such a weapon. "When the Lanteans settled here approximately twelve thousand eight hundred and ninety for revolutions ago, however, they installed weapons platforms all across the installation."

"What kind of weapons?," Peters asked, suddenly animated. "Anything we can use to help the fleet?"

"Unfortunately, no. The range of the Lantean weapons systems is too short to assist your fellows," the Monitor answered. "But there are still ships in orbit. The main problem will be whether or not we will actually be able to fire the weapons."

"What do you mean?," Cortez asked. "Why wouldn't we be able to fire them? I thought you had control over all of the systems of this place."

"All of the original systems, yes. But the Lantean systems require a living Lantean to operate, or at least a descendant of them," the Monitor replied. "Although you humans bear a striking physical resemblance to both my creators and the Lanteans, I hesitate to calculate the odds that either of you would be descendants of either race."

Cortez nodded, knowing what the Monitor was saying. It would be an astronomical stroke of good luck that either he or Peters carried the necessary genetic material to operate the Lantean weapons. They had been told that not only the mysterious 'creators' but also the Lanteans had, at one point or another, settled in small numbers on Earth and interbred with the natives, sapient beings who were close enough genetic matches to both races to allow for successful coupling.

"No matter the odds," K'Ton spoke for the first time, his voice quiet and his gaze still levelled at the hologram. "We must at least try. Take us to the nearest Lantean weapons systems."

The Monitor hesitated, looking to both Cortez and Peters for confirmation. Both men looked at each other briefly, nodded and were immediately whisked away in a flash of golden light.

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Seventeen Infantry Fighting Vehicles, five medium tanks, nine battle suits and two Main Battle Tanks. In a conventional fight in which both sides had access to vehicles of similar quality, it would have been unwise for the PDF and Marines to launch an attack with just twenty four vehicles and nine battle suits.

Unfortunately for the Jaffa, they did not have anything even remotely resembling the war machines arrayed against them, and now that they were cut off from constant replenishment of lost warriors, they were quickly beginning to feel the strain.

Youngling B'Nat, piloting his own XBS-87 battle suit, felt no such strain. The quad barrelled rotary plasma cannon attached to the right forearm of the battle suit whined constantly, spitting aquamarine super-heated death into the onrushing hordes. The flamethrower attached to the left forearm had yet to be used, as the close-quarters fighting that B'Nat had taken part in so far had not allowed for the use of area-of-effect weaponry.

The buildings around B'Nat shuddered and crumbled under artillery shelling, shoulder launched missiles and tank-fired rail spikes, and the thick choking dust had forced the humans to switched to infra-red just to see where they were going. B'Nat swivelled the bulky top half of the battle suit on its stabilisers, fired a pair of anti-personnel fragmentation missiles down the narrow street and smiled grimly in satisfaction as a small group of Jaffa were torn to shreds by hundreds of tiny ball bearings.

The monstrous sonic boom of a rail spike being fired from one of the Reaper Main Battle Tanks dual 120mm rail cannons forced B'Nat to instinctively duck, the mass of the battle suit following his movements, even though the shot had not come anywhere near hitting him. The fourth floor of a building roughly two hundred metres down the street erupted in a cloud of dust, debris and body parts as the Jaffa that had taken refuge there were annihilated.

B'Nat couldn't help but wonder what such a mighty weapon would be capable of should its inherent limitations ever be overcome. All Allied soldiers knew that rail weapons were limited to fifty eight hundred metres per second in atmosphere similar to Earths, as any object moving at speeds greater than sixty five hundred to seven thousand metres per second would start to burn up from atmospheric friction, thus losing effectiveness over long distances.

"Enemy infantry, moving out in the open!," a nearby Marine shouted, and B'Nat again swivelled around, spraying an intersection behind the advancing force with plasma as a dozen or so Jaffa sprinted across the street. Four of them made it past the battle suits fire, only to have a pair of Razorback IFVs fire a stream of 10mm rail spikes and 7.62mm machinegun rounds down the street after them and cut them down before they could make it to safety.

As he swung his battle suit back around, the war machine stumbled on its lower stabilisers and the shield alarm began blaring painfully loud in his ears. The suit turned just far enough to see what looked like some kind of stationary turret fire a large plasma bolt at it.

The remainder of the shields were stripped away and the thick, variable density armour plating was blasted open, splitting the battle suit and leaving B'Nat entirely exposed for the next shot.

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Lance Corporal Benjamin Ellis turned his helmeted head away from the destruction of the battle suit some twenty feet to his right.

"Arty command, Lance Corporal Ellis," he spoke into his radio. "Have sighted enemy entrenched position, backed by static defences. Requesting thermo-baric and white phosphorous bombardment. Have your UAVs look for the IR strobe. How copy?"

"_Good copy, thermos and phosphor rounds on standby, UAVs awaiting strobe_," came the static laden reply.

"Popping strobe now, can't wait for the fireworks," Ellis said back, then nodded to one of the privates under his command. The younger man pressed a button on a small, grenade-like device, then tossed it to the Jaffa entrenchments.

"_UAVs have spied your strobe, incoming ordnance. I'd keep my head down, if I were you_," Artillery Command replied a few seconds later, and Ellis immediately ducked his head.

Had he kept on watching he would have seen a cloud of finely powdered reactive organics disperse over the Jaffa entrenchment, followed by a brief spark that ignited the cloud. Immediately, the organics reacted with the oxygen in the air and the electrical spark provided by the slow-falling ignition pods and sent out an enormous pressure and heat wave that scoured the Jaffa position in a firestorm the likes of which no Jaffa had ever seen before.

After the flames consumed all the fuel and oxygen in the area, the second stage of a thermo-baric weapon became evident; they weren't called 'vacuum bombs' for nothing. In the absence of so much air in one area, the void 'sucked' in all the oxygen from the surrounding area, creating a brief but very intense vacuum that dragged bodies and debris toward the centre of the vacuum, as well as sucking all the air out of the lungs of anyone who happened to be too close to the explosion.

A short while later, the few remaining Jaffa stood shakily from the debris, and began firing once again. It didn't last long, as another cloud erupted into existence over their heads; the chemical compound white phosphorous had been banned before because of what it did to human bodies. Unfortunately for the Jaffa, they were close enough to human to experience the same effects.

White phosphorous was essentially a chemical form of napalm; it created no flames other than the brief, very painful, and often fatal bursts they caused on organic matter, and Jaffa fell to the ground screaming, clawing at their flesh as the phosphorous did its job.

"Good hits, arty command," Ellis spoke quietly into his transmitter, watching horrified as the Jaffa continued struggling against the chemical.

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A/N: There you go, part one of a two part 'chapter'. Sorry for the long wait, but I've been somewhat distracted of late (looking for a new place to rent) and on top of that, my computer has been mostly turned off for the past couple of weeks thanks to thunder and electrical storms in the area. Anyways, hope you enjoyed and please leave a review.


	13. Not really a chapter

**Interlude-A Brief Explanation Of Things So Far**

As I've had a couple of people say that the main plot - Earth at war with the Goa'uld - is becoming a little convoluted and that all the sub-plots (which do tie in to the main plot, by the way) are making it more complex than some other multi-crossovers, I'm going to give a brief explanation of the various crossover elements in the story and how they are going to tie in with the main plotline.

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**1.) United Nations Space Command** - In this story, the UNSC is a fledgling conglomerate government that includes all human colonies external to the Sol System. Originally part of the Halo-verse, this UNSC is smaller but more technologically advanced, and is already well aware of sentient alien life forms by the time the story starts, thanks to an allied race (the Tau Republic) and an interstellar war against another (known to humans only as 'Alkaid', named for the system they were discovered in).

Primary combat doctrine revolves around the motto "High speed, low drag". Most active ships in their fleet are small, fast ships meant more for engaging pirates and raiders than actual fleet engagements. With discovery of the Goa'uld, Battlefleet Command is being resurrected, as are the more powerful ships, coming from Mothball Yards. Next generation ships are starting to enter production, featuring more powerful fusion reactors, better energy dispersal shields, stronger armour and more advanced weaponry.

**2.)** **Tau Republic** - The Tau - Tia'n'vau in their native tongue - are a long lived race who, early in their advancement into space, encountered humans in their home system. These humans were quick to begin peace talks with the Tau, hoping to find allies should hostile races ever be encountered. The Tau were open and more than willing to these talks, and have been strong allies to the humans ever since.

Partially inspired by the Tau Empire of the 40K-verse, these Tau are less technologically advanced but have much longer life-spans. They do not have any known religions, but they do revere those of advanced age for having great wisdom. Due to a genetic anomaly, some Tau are born 'Elders', Tau with life-spans three-to-five times greater than the average member of their race. Elders often become military, political or scientific leaders and dedicate their entire lives to their chosen professions

Combat doctrine and technology very similar to humans thanks to early influence on spacecraft design and technology sharing during First Contact. Prefer peace, but will go to war if a great infraction has been made. With the Alkaid, it was continued attacks while the dog-like aliens refused any contact beyond fighting. With the Goa'uld, it is irrepressible arrogance and intentionally invading an Allied world without even attempting to initiate peace talks.

**3.) Goa'uld Union** - Largely unchanged from the TV series Stargate: SG-1. This Union, though still somewhat fractured, is forced to work together to achieve common goals by Anubis. Anubis returned during the brief but brutal fighting the Union experienced when Wraith Hiveships, after centuries of crossing the galactic void (the Wraith aboard those ships spending most of that time in hibernation) invaded the Milky Way Galaxy and began culling any human or Jaffa worlds they could find. During this fighting, Anubis was the driving force behind the Union; he was the one who brought all the System Lords together to fight this threat, he was the one who supplied upgrades to the other System Lords ships to make it easier to combat the mammoth Hives.

When the Wraith were defeated, the Union sought to return to its previous state. Anubis contested, and the other System Lords attacked Anubis' fleets and armies, seeking to crush the small empire he had managed to build. Anubis had kept a great many powerful technologies to himself, however, and the System Lords found themselves turned away by Ha'taks that boasted a six-to-one kill ratio over their own, and well prepared armies of Jaffa warriors surrounding every chappa'ai to one of Anubis' worlds.

Anubis rose to power again after defeating Sokar, and absorbing his fleets and armies into his own. With a larger force, Anubis commanded the System Lords to stop fighting. Seeing the only other alternative as death at the hands of Anubis, the System Lords stopped fighting. The result of that early rebellion against Anubis is the modern Goa'uld Union seen in the story.

**4.) The Covenant** - Also taken from the Halo-verse, the Covenant is still on the same religious crusade as seen in the Halo games, but the Elites are starting to lose their faith and the Prophets are constantly testing that faith. With enormous fleets at their disposal, billions of warriors waiting to bring the faith of the Forerunners to their foes and advanced technology to help them do it, the Prophets are not afraid to abuse their power.

At this point, one tiny push could be all that it takes to start a civil war that could see the end of the Covenant and the beginning of a new era. Creates a new enemy and a potential ally for humans.

**5.) The Ancient Races **- While the Lanteans (from SG-1) remain mostly the same, the Forerunners are now the technological juggernauts they were supposed to be. A new race has also been added; the Talayhn, an original race from an original fic I wrote a long time ago, and the source of most of humanities modern technologies.

The Asgard are the only still-living 'Ancient Race', but are referred to as still in the infancy of their development by the Forerunner AI Reticent Observer. The Asgard have not been involved in the story as of yet, but will shortly be making their first appearance.

The Asgard will play a major part in humanity as a whole discovering their origins.

**6.) Colonials and Cylons - **Unchanged from the show, up until the end of season two (assuming Cylon occupation didn't occur). Will play a major part in humanity as a whole discovering their origins.

**7.) Babylon 5 races** - Things are very different in the B5-verse for this story. As humanity didn't exist in the B5-verse, the Dilgar had no major opposition and have killed off the majority of the League races. Those they haven't killed have been bottled up behind mammoth static defences and confined to their homeworlds.

The Dilgar attacked Minbari peace envoys on their way to the Yolu homeworld and started a war with the much more technologically advanced Minbari. The Minbari are winning the war with enormous kill ratios in their favour, and the Dilgar are only now beginning to realise their mistake.

The Minbari will make a powerful new ally for humanity, and the Dilgar will have to make some serious decisions and pacts with the proverbial devil to survive. The First Ones and the Minbari will play a minor part in humanity as a whole discovering their origins.

**8.) Balanaan Association** - An original race I created for the same story the Talayhn came from. The Association is rare in that its home system had five habitable planets - and one sub-species that evolved per planet. Carnivores with an insatiable appetite, human flesh is a delicacy like no other for them and they seek it like a junky looking for his next fix.

Four centuries ago, the Dark Ones, an amalgamation of all the 'cattle' races the Association had enslaved, rose up and drove away the Association. With a burning need for revenge, these races have been using Association ships and technologies to hunt down their one-time oppressors from one galaxy to the next.

The Association will serve as the main antagonists for the SOCOM Stealth Cruiser accompanying the Colonial fleet on their exodus to Earth and will play a minor part in humanity as a whole discovering their origins.

**9.) The Tok'ra and the Free Jaffa Nation **- Largely unchanged from SG-1, they will make minor allies for the humans, providing a better understanding of Goa'uld technology as well as intelligence on Goa'uld fleet/troop movements and locations of major strongholds.

Will play a minor part in humanity as a whole discovering their origins.

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Well, I think that's everything. If I've missed something or if you want to know more about something, just let me know and I'll see what I can do. The next actual chapter should (barring distractions, electrical storms or computer viruses) be ready sometime in the next two-to-three weeks, so keep an eye out for that.


	14. Operation Redemption, Part Two

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the TV shows/video games/books involved in this crossover. I don't make any profit from my work on this story.

**A/N: **Again, sorry for the long wait. Let me know if I should continue with this, as I'm thinking about doing a rewrite that would change things quite dramatically.

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**Eden System, Operation Redemption in progress**

The _Relentless _shuddered violently as her entire port-side lit up from the muzzle flashes of more than a hundred guns, and barely four hundred kilometres distant, a pair of upgraded Ha'taks disintegrated under the brutal mix of rail spikes, laser bursts and plasma bolts, leaving no debris larger than a human body behind.

Beside her hung the twisted wreck of a battle cruiser, its engines still glowing as they maintained pace with the rest of the fleet. Space all around the flagship was a blur of explosions, flashes of light and fighter craft moving at speeds unattainable by larger craft. Lines of energy connected ships to one another over the vast expanse of the empty battleground that space in the Eden system had become. Empty excepting those ships, and those that had been destroyed and left behind.

The _Relentless_ fired again, savaging a small group of standard Ha'taks with her dorsal Particle Accelerator Cannons, then brought down half a dozen Al'kesh with AFM fire from her defensive batteries. All nine dreadnoughts were still active, and all were reaping just as heavy a toll on the enemy as the flagship was, and the Goa'uld had completely ignored the superdreadnoughts, a severe tactical error on their part that no human or Tau commander would have made.

Those eight ships were spamming the limited point-defence of the enemy ships with missile fire, leaving them wide open for strikes from the much more powerful warheads the smaller Allied ships carried.

Aboard the _Relentless_, things appeared much calmer than one would believe. The bridge was silent bar a few quietly murmured reports, and Admiral Porcini sat in his command chair, face white as a sheet and gripping his armrests so hard his hands ached, staring at the tactical display before him.

Of the ships he had arrived with, two battleships, five battle cruisers and nearly two dozen heavy and light cruisers were gone from his display. Nearly thirty thousand people had operated those ships; less than a tenth of those had been able to evacuate from them.

"Enemy battleships entering energy weapon range, sir," Captain Silas Greene reported to him, and Porcini nodded, not moving his eyes from the display.

"Code Omega from _Caspian_, sir!," the ensign at Communications shouted, and the bridge fell into a deathly silence as the Destroyed In Action code for the dreadnought _Caspian_ fluttered to life on the primary TAC board. "She was hit by three enemy battleships at once, sir. Analysis suggests a new weapon has been added to the enemies arsenal."

Even as the words left the ensigns mouth, Porcini jolted forward in his restraints and the TAC board flickered violently.

"Report!," Porcini hoarsely called as he repositioned himself.

"We were hit by hyper-accelerated ion particles, sir. Definitely came from an enemy battleship, but it left no residual radiation," Catalina reported, her avatar shimmering to life on the bridge.

"New targeting solution, all enemy battleships are to take priority," Porcini ordered.

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Apophis smirked slightly as the reinforcements Anubis had sent finally revealed their advantage over Ha'taks. True, they were bigger than Ha'taks which in itself was an advantage, but they weren't armed traditionally.

Anubis had long boasted that he had invaded Tollana, killed the Tollan and taken their technologies for himself. It had scarcely been believed, but no one had wanted to risk sending ships to Tollana to discover if it was true or not. Now Apophis knew. Anubis had Tollan Ion Cannons fitted to his Kar'taks.

All the System Lords knew of Anubis' new ship class, for Anubis himself had warned that any infraction or attempts to break away from the Union would be met with them. They sported more advanced shields and thicker armour than Ha'taks, and with Ion weapons they stood a chance of even overcoming the defences of Asgard ships.

The flagship was far away from the fighting, and Apophis was less than pleased with the progress he had seen so far. The Udajeet had once again been annihilated for little gain in a short time, and the Al'kesh had suffered terrible losses so far. Over a hundred standard Ha'taks, three dozen upgraded Ha'taks and four Kar'taks and been lost, but they were wearing down the much smaller human fleet.

Of course, without adequate glider and Al'kesh numbers, his ships could be swarmed with enemy fighters, like a man being attacked by killer wasps. One or two may not do it, but a hundred would.

"Milord, I-," an underling neared Apophis' throne, bearing a report of strange sensor contacts edging closer and closer to the planet, but did not make it far. Apophis swung his hand angrily, and visible waves of energy washed over the underling, sending the young Jaffa flying across the room to impact against one of the doors leading out of the pel'tac.

"I ordered not to be disturbed," Apophis glowered at the barely conscious Jaffa, eyes glowing and voice deeper than usual. It was unfortunate for Apophis that that Jaffa had not been able to deliver his report; it might have saved the System Lord a great deal of trouble.

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Three were moving toward the planet. Two were going after the now-identified flagship. All had their own missions, and all were carrying a payload optimised for that mission.

Commander Rachel Collison was aboard the _Duntroon_, a refitted SOCOM cruiser that was designed specifically for high priority 'snatch and grab' missions. This was her eighth mission in command of the _Duntroon_, and she was determined to make it eight-for-eight successful missions.

Coasting along side the_ Duntroon,_ the _Kapooka_ was headed for the same target as her sister: Apophis' flagship. The mission was simple; the cruisers were to bombard the flagship until its shields were down, then fire boarding torpedoes loaded with shock troopers and their specialised payloads. Once aboard, the missions success would come down to the men onboard the flagship and whether or not they could take Apophis alive. With Apophis in their custody, hopefully they would have a bargaining chip that would force the Goa'uld to accept peace talks.

If not, they could have plenty of extra Intel from a high ranking official, so to speak. In any case, Collison had to get in close first, past a pair of light cruisers that had elected to stay with the flagship, then survive whatever weapons the flagship itself had while pounding its shields flat. It was neither the most difficult nor the most simple to achieve objective she had ever been given.

"Entering energy weapon range now, ma'am. Shall I disengage the cloak?," Lieutenant Leslie Baron asked.

"Do so, and immediately launch all nukes in the tubes at those escorts. We'll use the Ion cannon and plasma cannons to deal with the flagship," Collison ordered, reciting the thoroughly thought out plan from memory. Commander Shelton Gatsby would be doing the same over on the _Kapooka_.

In unison, the twin ships appeared on Goa'uld sensors in full, seconds before two dozen nukes flashed into existence, covering the three thousand kilometres to their targets in a split second, and two miniature suns were born right outside of Apophis' flagship.

Before the light had faded, plasma bolts flashed from the two cruisers as they split up, moving to hit the flagship from all sides. Aquamarine bolts of energy hammered against the golden hued shields of the flagship with frequent intensity for several long moments, before the flagship was speared from both port and starboard by two streams of hyper-accelerated ion particles.

As the shields were battered and beaten, the flagship finally began firing in response, golden plasma bolts lashing out in rabid defence at the two cruisers, the smaller ships' shields reacting to the fast moving energy globes and easily repelling the attack even as the cruisers continued hammering the flagship with plasma bolts of their own.

Planet killing quantities of plasma were hurled back and forth between just these three ships, it was humbling for Collison to think of the battleline twenty light seconds away and the mass of firepower being thrown through the cold depths of space.

"Enemy shields down, launching boarding torpedoes!," Lt. Baron shouted, dragging Collison from her brief reverie in time to watch eight torpedoes fly out from the bow of her ship and crash hard into the flagship.

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The corridors of Apophis' flagship were crawling with his Kull warriors and most skilled Jaffa, so he was naturally unconcerned about the boarding action. The warriors which guarded him and his ship, however, were concerned.

Particularly when two human warriors of such incredible skill and efficiency to be dubbed 'demons' by the few who survived their attacks long enough to tell brief tales to their comrades were running rampant about the ship just minutes after the torpedoes breached the ships hull.

Rounding a corner right into a patrol made up of four Jaffa and two Kull warriors, Spartan-089 blanched behind his golden faceplate and swung his green-armoured fist on a reflex, caving in the chest piece of the nearest Jaffa and killing the warrior instantly. Another warrior swung his staff weapon like a club, hoping to catch the genetically altered super-soldier off-guard. 089 caught it with his right hand in a crushing grip, pulled on it and sent the warrior crashing into his outstretched right fist, breaking the jaw and cheekbone of the Jaffa in question.

One of the Kull warriors fired a series of plasma bolts at the Spartan's chest, only for a green blur to take the soldiers place and for all but one round to miss entirely. 089 grabbed the outstretched arm of that Kull warrior and wrenched it sharply around, swinging the warrior in a wide arc before tossing it into the last two Jaffa, knocking both off their feet.

The other Kull warrior backed up a step, firing madly at the Spartan only to have the plasma splash harmlessly against a golden band of energy that protected the Mark V Mjolnir Battle Suit and the soldier who wore it. That warrior made it a few feet more before a hail of rail spikes hammered it to a bloody smear across the floor and wall.

Three Shock Troopers, rifles shouldered, stepped around the corner, two moving to finish off the Jaffa struggling to raise their weapons and the unconscious Kull warrior, the other moving to stand beside the unmoving Spartan.

"Real impressive, sir," the trooper beside 089 said with a low whistle. "But I still don't know where we're going, so we can keep this up all day or we can try to take someone alive to guide us around."

"Were it so easy," 089 spoke, and the trooper blinked several times rapidly behind his faceplate as a surprisingly smooth, cultured voice escaped the speakers on the Spartans helmet. "I don't think they'll even let themselves be taken alive."

As he spoke, the two Jaffa lunged at the troopers and were immediately cut down, as if to prove his point.

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David Taulen sat in his cockpit, taking in long, slow breaths to keep himself calm. Almost as soon as the remaining craft from the defence forces had returned to Eden's atmosphere, they had been grounded at the Carason River Air Base, about one hundred and ninety kilometres south-west of the planets capital.

Now, with his _Shrike _fully repaired and rearmed, he was preparing for the inevitable order that would finally send his squadron back out to kick some Goa'uld butt. There weren't many fighters left, but if what they'd been told about the fight going on up there was true, then every little bit would be a help.

The majority of the squadrons had been split up and given overall command of a small group of fighter drones. While small and not particularly powerful, the drones were very fast and agile, and taking into consideration the fact that Goa'uld fighters lacked shields, the nose mounted gatling laser would prove deadly enough. The gunboats would have to be dealt with by the more heavily armed _Shrikes_ and _Sabres _that still remained functional.

A blinking green light on his HUD and a particularly irritating beeping noise told Taulen that he had to get in the air. He goosed the throttle on the VTOL engines, rose a good fifty metres straight up, and with an ear-shattering sonic boom that was imitated dozens of times over by other fighters and the accompanying drones, took off skyward.

He passed through clouds quickly enough to set them swirling, and the active shields of his reliable fighter glowed hot as atmospheric friction began to take its toll. Despite the inertial dampeners, he was pressed back into his seat as the sky above him faded rapidly from the light blue common to most terra-compatible worlds to the star studded pitch black of space.

Now high above the world, Taulen could see far distant explosions that were probably twenty seconds old, or older. To him, it was like looking into the past. What was not looking into the past were the glaring detonations of nearby nukes erupting in amongst the small number of enemy heavy ships still in orbit.

"Okay, boys and girls, time to kick these assholes back to wherever the hell they came from!," Commander Mbutu called out over the TAC-link. "There are still a lot of fighters and gunboats in the area, and I for damn sure want 'em outta my sky before reinforcement dropships show up!"

Affirmatives rang out over the subspace frequency as Taulen eyeballed his sensor suite; a lot of death gliders had taken note of the human craft and were already moving in on them.

"Heads up, we got bogies incoming," an unfamiliar voice spoke in his ear-bud, clearly stating that other pilots had taken note of the same threat Taulen had. Tactical orders began rolling out, but for the most part Taulen ignored them, taking deep breaths. He goosed the throttle again and was pushed back in his seat as he led the charge against his enemy counterparts, the three fighter drones assigned to his craft following without hesitation.

Entering AMRAAM range, he fired off two of his precious missiles. The twin missiles streaked away from him at incredible speed, joined barely a moment later by dozens more as other fighters followed his lead. Seconds later, ball explosions marked the death of Goa'uld fighter craft and Taulen grinned tautly, adrenalin already pumping through his veins in anticipation of the coming fight.

The approach seemed to take forever and last not a moment at the same time, then all at once he was in the thick of it. Plasma washed by his craft and laser pulses split the darkness of space , and he yanked the control yoke in all directions, squeezing the firing stud over and over again, forever seeking his next kill.

A gunboat came from nowhere, the much more powerful cannon it mounted destroying a nearby _Sabre _and sending a pair of bolts crashing against Taulens shields. Face blank, Taulen banked sharply to starboard, advanced targeting systems already acquiring information on the gunboat and sending it to the missiles in the _Shrikes _belly.

With a push of a button, two more missiles shot out from the _Shrike_ even as it turned away from the gunboat, the fire-and-forget systems having all that they needed to track down and destroy their target. The two warheads battered down the gunboats shields and left it wide open for a pair of fighter drones to drill with laser pulses. The ship didn't detonate, but the crew was doubtlessly dead judging by the melted an perforated cockpit area and surrounding hull.

"We've got three stealth cruisers in need of assistance at 94-by-86-by-17, thirteen grand away," Taulen heard another pilot say, and immediately he swung around onto the designated heading. There, off in the distance, not even distinguishable by human eyes but picked up easily enough by the zoom function of his HUD, were three large specks surrounding by pulsing coronas of energy as they fended off what were undoubtedly fighter craft.

Without hesitation, Taulen moved off at speed toward the cruisers, joined by eight other pilots and twenty or so drones. Heart pumping fast despite the calm expression on his face, Taulen had only one thought in mind: _gotta keep racking up those kills._

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Michael Cortez found himself standing in a small chamber, a room which was dominated by a large throne atop a pedestal in the very centre of the room. The chamber was dark, the only light coming from a single spotlight somewhere above the throne, illuminating it and erasing any doubt anyone might have had that the throne was of a great deal of importance.

"So, how does this work?," he heard Peters ask gruffly as the other man moved past Cortez to stand right in front of the throne.

"It is quite simple, I assure you. All you must do is sit upon the throne and think; the technology operates off of the brainwaves of the being operating it," Reticent Observer answered, floating alongside Cortez and K'Ton as they too moved closer to the throne.

"So, I just think about what I want it to do, and it'll do it?," Peters asked, eyebrow raised behind his faceplate.

"That's what I said, unless my memory core has been jostled loose," the Monitor replied tartly; apparently, it didn't like repeating itself.

"Smart arse," Peters mumbled under his breath as he removed his helmet. Setting it on the floor beside him, Peters clambered up onto the throne and sat on it, putting his hands upon two palm-sized half-spheres that protruded from the ends of the armrests. "Here goes nothing."

Peters closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the image of one of the alien ships still in orbit being destroyed and hoping it was enough for the chair to work with. Nothing yet. He drew in a breath, held it and concentrated as hard as he could. Veins began popping up on his forehead and his face began to turn red as he shook slightly in the throne, willing the weapons to activate and destroy the invaders.

"Damn it," he muttered, finally giving up. He turned to look at Cortez. "Looks like it's up to you, pal."

"Yeah," Cortez said, grimacing. "Looks like."

Cortez handed the rail rifle over to K'Ton, then began making his way to the chair as Peters stepped down from the dais and retrieved his helmet. Cortez passed Peters on the way, the other man patting him quickly on the should and murmuring "Good luck" as they passed each other.

The Monitor spoke as Cortez settled into the surprisingly comfortable throne.

"The orbiting ships have begun firing on the surface at random, but several are concentrating their fire on the mountain range above us," Reticent Observer stated, and Cortez sighed in exasperation. He had to get this right, because if he didn't, the ships in orbit would probably pummel the mountain range until it collapsed on top of them.

Cortez closed his eyes, unknowingly imagining the same scene Peters had. He concentrated hard, visualising enemy ships exploding as they were struck by the unimaginable weapons that this throne commanded.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes, looked at the hopeful look on Peters face, the sickened one on K'Ton's and the impassive glow of the Monitor's 'eye'. He couldn't let them down. He closed his eyes again, concentrating even harder, urging the weapons to activate and smite the ships in orbit, but it was not to be.

"Fuck!," Cortez swore, jumping down from the dais in a fury. "I can't make it work either! We're fucked if they keep hitting the mountains."

"Is there anything else we can do?," Peters asked the Monitor. "Any other weapons or anything at all?"

The floor quaked beneath their feet unexpectedly, and dust fell from the high ceiling of the large room.

"No. As I said before, the only weapons with the necessary range to reach those ships were Alteran platforms," Reticent Observer answered, shaking itself from side to side to get rid of some dust that had landed on it.

"Alteran? I thought you said this was a Lantean weapon," Cortez said, moving closer to the Monitor.

"Yes," it answered. "That particular sub-species went by many different names. It is usually a matter of preference of an individual as to what they are called."

"Sub-species?," Peters muttered, and Cortez glanced at him sideways, then turned his attention back to the Monitor, opened his mouth to speak.

"Weapons platform activated," Reticent Observer said, then floated between Peters and Cortez, coming to a stop a short distance from the throne.

Cortez stared at the throne, eyes wide.

"I'll be damned," Peters whispered.

"Yeah," Cortez answered, then looked again to the Monitor.

"How interesting," the little machine said in an odd tone of voice, the gentle glow emanating from it changing to a faint orange colour as it gazed at the throne and it's occupant. K'Ton's large eyes were squeezed together tightly, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he used the ancient weapon.

A hologram erupted in front of the chair, like some kind of tactical display one might find on the bridge of a Navy warship, showing a stream of tiny projectiles leaving the surface of Eden Prime and hurtling into space.

"How interesting, indeed," the Monitor said again.

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"How the hell did they spot us?," Commander Keiji Nakamura shouted as his stealth cruiser was hammered by dozens of fighters and gunboats. The three cruiser assigned to deliver much needed reinforcements to the capital city had been under active ECM and were using the ACSIS, so in theory they should have been completely undetectable, even by each other except at short range, say within two or three hundred kilometres.

"Unknown," Ensign Kerensky stated flatly. "But there's nothing we can do about it now, sir."

"Point, ensign. Looks like we have to fight our way to the planet. Put out a request for any Allied fighter assistance, then max out our sub-lights," Nakamura said, settling into his command chair and strapping in.

The orders were carried out with quiet efficiency, and the shuddering of his vessel ceased as the shields were finally activated. Looking out the view-port, Nakamura spied a trio of Goa'uld fighters firing maniacally into the dorsal shields several hundred metres away, then breaking off as the local Laser Net defence cannons returned fire. None survived to make a second run.

"Allied fighters incoming, sir," another ensign reported. "IFF tags read as…Eden Defence Force, sir!"

"Survivors from the first battle? Or a Goa'uld trap?," Nakamura pondered aloud.

"Sir, if I may," Kerensky started, "the Goa'uld seem to be tactically inept, I'm not even sure they could come up with a trap like that on their own. IFF tags are virtually impossible to duplicate, because they are all created line-by-line by AIs, and the Goa'uld can't know enough about our planes to remove the actual chips and install them on their own craft, and I doubt they could figure out how to pilot the actual craft either. I really think they're survivors, sir."

"Let's hail them and find out," Nakamura said after a moment.

"Aye, sir," Kerensky said, fiddling with his console momentarily. "Line open and clear, sir. Whenever you're ready."

Nakamura nodded his thanks to the ensign, then started speaking.

"This is Commander Nakamura of the SOCOM cruiser _Daintree_ to incoming EDF craft. Thunder," the commander said. There was silence for a long time over the sub-space frequency, and Nakamura was beginning to think that the Goa'uld _had_ set up a trap when…

"This is Captain David Taulen of the EDF Strike Fighter Corps to Commander Nakamura. Flash, sir. We're friendlies, and it looks like you could use a hand," a masculine voice finally answered, and Nakamura couldn't help but smile ever so slightly.

"That we could, Captain, that we could," the commander said, then relaxed slightly in his chair and watched the tactical display as the blips of those Allied fighters closed in.

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Apophis glared disbelievingly at the rapidly cooling mass of plasma that had been four Ha'taks coming to the aid of the flagship. They had been destroyed by weapons that were as terrifying as they were recognisable: Alteran drones. The yellow, squid-like projectiles had completely ignored the shields of those ships and torn them apart from the inside out.

He had not counted on the presence of such weapons on this world, and even if he had he would never have believed that the humans would know about them and how to activate them.

"Why is that human fleet still in my space?," Apophis snarled at Rya'c. "And why are the infiltrators not dead yet?"

"My Lord," Rya'c answered, bowing his head low. "I will personally see to the destruction of the infiltrators, and the human fleet cannot hope to survive our numbers."

"Your punishment will be severe if you are wrong," Apophis stated, then waved his hand in dismissal. Rya'c bowed again, walking backwards several feet, before about-facing and stalking out of the pel'tac.

_This is my chance_, Rya'c thought to himself as he passed a view port that was dotted with far-distant explosions. _I must speak with the infiltrators._

Rya'c moved quickly through the corridors of the mothership, walking past roving patrols of Jaffa or Kull warriors and fortified positions that included a mix of both plus staff cannon support. As he passed through, ever watchful for human warriors, he overheard conversations, all of them pertaining to the ambitious attack on the mothership.

"…nothing could stop them…"

"…like some kind of demon, it killed everyone…"

"…even the mighty Kull warriors fell before them…"

Everywhere he went, it was always the same. Fear was spreading through the ship quickly as rumours of unstoppable green monsters infected the hearts and minds of the Jaffa who sought to defend their ship and protect their god.

The humans, it seemed, where ever full of surprises. The further Rya'c moved from the pel'tac and Apophis, the fewer Jaffa there were to be seen. After perhaps ten minutes or so of making his way through a series of corridors and cross-sections, Rya'c came to a small storage chamber. The door was dented and scorched, the wall around it scored by plasma and projectiles, and one unusual imprint that looked very much like some one had punched the wall. But that was impossible, the trinium-naquadah composite that the walls were made from was far too resilient for something like that.

Hefting his staff weapon experimentally, Rya'c looked cautiously about the corridor, then moved closer to the door, putting his ear up against it to try and hear what was going on on the other side. He heard shouting, the firing of staff weapons and the unfamiliar whine of human weaponry, then nothing.

The door was ruined, no way for Rya'c to pass through it from this side, so he had to find a way into the storage chamber or to the other corridor the room opened up into if he wanted to speak with the humans.

With a clear objective in mind, Rya'c turned from the door and made his way further down the corridor, headed for a cross-section that would hopefully lead to the next corridor over. He turned the corner calmly, and never even saw it coming.

A grey fist flashed from around the corner, slamming into the side of Rya'c's head and sending him spinning away, the grip on his staff weapon loosening, sending the long weapon skittering across the floor.

"Don't move, dumbass," a gruff voice said from behind him, and Rya'c turned around, rubbing his jaw, to see two grey-armoured humans pointing unusual-looking weapons at him. Reluctantly, Rya'c held his hands out to his side to show he presented no threat.

One of the humans took two quick steps forward. "On your knees pal, and put your hands on your head."

Seeing no other choice, Rya'c complied. He eyed them warily, unsure of how to proceed. He had been so set on finding the humans and speaking with them, but now that he was confronted with them, he had no idea what to say.

The two humans were completely silent, just standing there, one with his weapon trained on Rya'c, the other carefully scanning the surrounding corridors for signs of danger. Suddenly, from somewhere not too far away, Rya'c heard staff fire and screaming erupt.

One scream in particular carried on for some time, before being cut off abruptly. Rya'c winced, and looked around at the other corridors branching off from the intersection. The corridor to his immediate left was darkened, as though something had damage the light emitting diodes that generally lit the path aboard most Goa'uld ships.

Around the corner of that corridor, appeared two more humans, and one giant green monster with a single golden eye. Rya'c swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the monster, and whispered the word '_demon_' quietly to himself. The humans and the accompanying monster came to a halt a short distance from where Rya'c was being held at gunpoint, and the two humans that had captured him seemed to be carrying a silent conversation with the new arrivals.

After a few short moments, the monster turned to face Rya'c, the golden eye capturing his reflection.

"Who are you, and how do we access the bridge?," a deep, gravely voice came from the monster, and Rya'c blinked several times rapidly in surprise.

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**A/N: **Okay, so I know that for my comeback chapter, this wasn't all that impressive, but I wrote basically the whole thing in the last couple of days while I had some downtime.

I have begun working on Part Three of this long-ass chapter, so hopefully I won't leave you hanging for another four months before it is posted. I have also started on the next chapter involving the _Magnus_ and all the folks of the Twelve Colonies, so I'll leave it up to all of you as to which one is posted next, if you wish for me to continue.

Let me know what you all think or at least let me know if there is anyone out there still interested in this fic.


	15. Operation Redemption, Part Three

Okay, here it is, 8800+ words for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a review.

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Missiles streaked across the void in scores, battering viciously against the defensive shields of the Goa'uld ships as red lines of laser fire and blue-green pulses of plasma criss-crossed space with golden energy globes and silver ion bolts.

Were it not for the atrocious loss of life that each one of those death dealing projectiles represented, Admiral Porcini would have thought it beautiful. Thousands of kilometres distant, one of the enemy battleships cracked in half and detonated in a brief flare of brilliant light as it was struck on all sides by a pair of battle cruisers and a battleship.

Much more closely, a trio of death gliders whipped past the_ Relentless_' bridge view ports, hounded by the delta-winged shapes of two _Scorpion _Interceptors. That the interceptors were forced to engage in dogfights bespoke of the turmoil the Allied fleet was embroiled in; such duties were normally handled by Space Superiority Fighters.

"Sir, fleet strength down to 63 per cent, all cruisers and six battle cruisers reporting full munitions expenditure. We've lost the dreadnoughts _Altair_ and _Railion_ and the superdreadnought _Graceful Arc_. What are your orders?," an aide reported, looking anxiously to the admiral for guidance.

"We cannot hold this position any longer," Porcini said, sighing heavily. "Prepare to order a tactical retreat to the edge of the system. Any ships that fall behind are to be left behind."

The entire command crew stopped whatever they were doing to stare in shock at their commander. Not since the Alkaid War had such an order been given.

"Upon arrival at the edge of the system, have all destroyers and frigates remaining with the supply colliers rendezvous with us and prepare for another strike," Porcini finished giving his orders, then looked expectantly to his crew.

"But, sir, ordering those ships to engage would be the equivalent of signing their death warrants," one of his crew said, stand from her chair.

"I am aware of that, ensign, but I am not prepared to leave over one hundred million civilians to suffer under the Goa'uld while there is still a means to take the fight to the enemy," he replied calmly. "Now carry out your orders. And tell the Stealth Cruisers to complete their missions, then go to active cloaking and try to disappear in the rings of Saldiris."

Saldiris, the sixth planetary body in the Eden System, was a gas giant made up primarily of Helium-3, nearly one-third again as large as Jupiter. It was surrounded by ninety-four rings of spatial debris, some of them large enough to cause an Extinction Level Event on an inhabited world. It would be the perfect place for the Stealth Cruisers to hide until the rest of the fleet was able to return.

The great dreadnought shuddered as a series of golden plasma bolts struck the aft shields, sending ripples across the energy barrier even as half a dozen rail gun batteries answered with hundreds of armour penetrating kinetic rods. The attacking Goa'uld ships shields shattered under the assault and detonations blossomed all over the hull as rail spikes hammered the ships armour.

"Get us out of here," Porcini said, glaring at the holo-display showing a pair of enemy battleships picking apart an Allied battle cruiser.

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The battlesuit was a smoking wreck, but the mass of tangled, half melted alloys was still viable cover for the three marines. One of them poked their head up over shoulder pauldron of the wrecked battle suit, ducking back down almost immediately after as a hail of plasma peppered the battlesuit and the ground around it.

"Fuck it! Five of the mothers have us pinned from the second floor balcony at our eleven o'clock," the marine that had peeked over the wreck said as the hail ended. " Looks like maybe three more in the butcher shop at out one o'clock."

"Can we get an artillery barrage to clear them out," one of the other marines asked.

"Negative on that, man. All the big guns are hammering the Our Lady Of Hope hospital, supposed to be hundreds of these assholes dug in there," the third marine said.

"What about an air strike?." the second marine spoke again.

"You wanna drag fighter-bombers away from the fight upstairs? Hell no, way things are looking that's where they'll be needed most," the first marine said.

"Okay. So how do we do this then?," the second marine asked. The other two men looked at each others impenetrable face plates, then looked back at the younger man.

"Good question," the first man said, as a short burst of plasma bolts splashed the ground a few feet away, spraying molten globs of dirt into the air.

"Anyone got a smoke grenade?," he asked, to which the other two shook their heads. Shaking his head in frustration, he looked up.

"What the hell is that?," he said after a moment, and the other two men looked up to see dozens of objects falling through the atmosphere above the city, leaving a trail of thick grey smoke behind them.

"No way!," the third exclaimed loudly. "Drop pods! Fucking Shock Troopers, man!"

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Te'rak was confused. Apophis' Supersoldiers were concentrating their fire on the wreckage of the great machine the three humans were hiding behind, as were his two remaining warriors. The humans were forced to keep their heads down and could do nothing to change their predicament; the staff weapons had a virtually limitless supply of energy, so the Jaffa could simply spend their time whittling away at the humans cover.

But what were the humans so excited about? The voices were barely distinguishable from the background noise of explosive detonations and distant small arms fire, but Te'rak could clearly hear the excitement in their voices.

Had they somehow found a way to solve their cover issues? Had they discovered a way to outflank them? Or were more of those machines on their way?

Te'rak shook his head; it mattered not what the humans did, with those five Supersoldiers he was confident he could handle just about anything that came his way.

That was his last thought before the butcher shop he was taking cover in suddenly seemed to collapse in on itself, and Te'rak was crushed under the nine hundred kilogram bulk of an OHEV. Explosive pins around the edge of the sealed entryway detonated, flinging the composite alloy door twenty feet straight ahead, slamming clean through the wall opposite the pod.

The Shock Trooper moved fast, leaping from his entry vehicle and shouldering his rail rifle, sending a burst of hyper-velocity rounds into one of the remaining Jaffa, before spinning around on the spot as the semi-autonomous defensive plasma cannon mounted on his shoulder vaporised the head of the last Jaffa before the warrior even had a chance to aim his staff weapon.

The Supersoldiers immediately changed targets, two of them moving swiftly toward the butcher shop, two firing in the opposite direction where two more drop pods had landed and the last intensifying its fire on the three pinned marines in an attempt to take up the slack its companions had left.

The Shock Trooper ducked low behind what was left of the Instacrete wall and fired a burst of rail spikes at the two Kull Warriors bearing down on him. One staggered back as a trio of rounds impacted against its chest, denting the ultra-durable trinium/naquadah composite trauma plate but otherwise doing no damage.

The other fired madly at the wall behind which the trooper was crouched, carving a molten path into the durable Instacrete. The trooper stood, took four direct hits to his shields and fired an extended burst into the Kull that had been hit before, sending twenty rail spikes slamming against the trauma plate, shattering it open and wounding the Kull before he was forced to drop back behind cover as his Shield Low alarm began blaring inside his helmet.

"Recharge already, god-damnit," the trooper shouted inside his sealed helmet as molten globs of Instacrete spattered against his faceplate. Finally, after an agonizingly long moment, the status bar for his shield began refilling, and he fired a quick burst of the half-destroyed wall, dropping the wounded warrior and completely missing the unharmed one.

The trooper stood, spinning away from the wall and seeking new cover as the sophisticated motion sensor suite detected movement coming from behind him as well as the Kull Warrior in front of him. He turned just in time to see two more Jaffa running in through the ruined back door of the building. Firing from the hip, he cut the two down with ease, but the distraction was enough to allow the Supersoldier to get the drop on him.

Plasma splashed against the troopers back, draining his shield rapidly and sending molten rivers of titanium/ceramic composite alloy running down the back of the armour and frying the plasma cannon.

He turned, swinging his rifle around, only to have it caught in the Supersoldiers left hand, its right one with the mounted plasma weapon swinging up to aim at his face point blank. The trooper gripped the Supersoldiers right forearm and pushed hard against it as the weapon began firing, the plasma missing his head by inches and instead splashing against the side of the OHEV.

The servo-motors in the armour that enhanced the troopers strength whined as they fought against the genetically altered muscle mass of the Kull Warrior. Releasing his grip on his rifle, the trooper swung his fist hard into the side of the warriors head, cracking the helmet and jarring the bones in his wrist from the sharp impact despite the protection of his armoured gauntlet.

The warrior dropped the rail rifle, swinging its own fist into the troopers stomach. The armour plating dented inward and all the air seemed to escape the troopers lungs even as he whipped his knee up into the warriors own gut in retaliation. The warrior stumbled back half a step, freeing the trooper to swing his fist two more times, cracking hard against the warriors chest plate.

The warrior swung its arm, connecting with the troopers head and shattering the reinforced faceplate of the helmet. Blinded, the trooper shrieked in pain and his grip loosened on the Kull Warriors' gun arm. The warrior calmly fired a burst of golden plasma bolts into the troopers stomach, killing the man almost instantly as the super-hot plasma melted through armour, flesh and bone.

Victorious, the Kull Warrior turned to find more enemies of the Union…and came face to chest with a hulking green-armoured human.

"Howdy," a grizzled, masculine voice said from behind the reflective golden faceplate. The Kull Warrior raised its gun arm to fire, but the Spartan grabbed said arm in one arm in a vice-like grip, and swung with all his might with his other hand, the armoured gauntlet crunching into the Kull Warriors face and snapping its neck, killing it instantly.

"Let's move, marines," the Spartan said, and the three marines that had earlier been huddled behind the wreck of a battle suit broke into a cautious jog and headed past the unmoving super soldier. The Spartan stared at the Shock Troopers body for a long moment, then knelt down and removed the other mans holo-tags before standing and running after the three marines.

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Apophis glared out the view port of his flagships bridge, fully aware that far off in the distance the humans were hastily retreating from the fight for control of the world below him.

The power and ferocity of this worlds defenders was commendable, but the would-be god had long since grown weary of the defiance of these humans and their xeno allies. Had Anubis not insisted that the world be kept as intact as possible, for reasons known only to himself, it would have been reduced to cinder and ash the moment its orbital defences had been defeated.

Now, the vast majority of his fleet was off pursuing the fleeing humans and their allies, his own ship was damaged with shields inactive, and human reinforcements had been delivered to the primary invasion point.

"My Lord," Rya'c's voice echoed across the near-silent pel'tac, and Apophis turned to face his First Prime.

"What is it, Prime? Have you dealt with the intruders?," Apophis demanded, eyeing Rya'c up and down; his armour was noticeably scuffed and he was without his staff weapon.

"In a manner of speaking," Rya'c answered, making and holding eye contact with Apophis, a slight which could not be ignored.

Apophis narrowed his eyes at his First Prime. The Jaffa in question did not waver, and in fact even smiled ever-so-slightly.

"Guards," Apophis hissed, gesturing to the six Kull Warriors in the room. "Seize him for his insolence!"

"That's not going to happen," a new voice, gruff and masculine, entered the conversation, and from the entryway to the pel'tac marched to hulking green, one-eyed monsters. Apophis may have been distracted by the external battle, but he had heard enough of what his warriors had said to recognise the beasts from various descriptions: Demons.

"Destroy them!," Apophis roared, and immediately the Kull Warriors began firing their wrist mounted weapons, Rya'c diving to the side and behind a decorative pillar, the two Demons splitting up, one moving in to engage the Warriors, the other coming straight for Apophis.

Two of the Kull Warriors moved to intercept the Demon, one swinging its arm like a club. The Demon caught the limb, twisted it sharply til the sound of bone splintering echoed across the chamber, even above the din of staff fire from the other four Warriors. The Warrior in the Demons grasp swung its other arm madly, the offending limb bouncing harmlessly off of a defensive energy barrier surrounding its assailant.

The Demon swung the Warrior around just as the other on fired, a series of plasma bolts splashing against its back as the Demon hurled it into the firing Warrior, slamming them both to the ground.

The Demon blurred into motion, whipping two small hand-held weapons up from thigh holsters as it moved, firing a stream of hyper-velocity projectiles into the downed Supersoldiers. The other Demon had already dispatched two more Kull Warriors and was busy dealing with the remaining two. The Demon advancing on Apophis re-holstered its weapons, just as Apophis waved his hand, visible bands of energy washing over the Demon.

The Demon stumbled back a couple of steps, shook its head, then resumed its advance. On the verge of panic, Apophis waved his hand again, but this time the Demon was ready for it, and simply leaned into the energy waves and struggled through them. The Demon lurched forward, seizing Apophis' arm and twisting sharply, the bones snapping like dry twigs under the pressure. Apophis shrieked in agony, dropping to his knees and clutching his ruined arm to his body.

The rattling whine of rail rifles firing filled the room, and the remaining Kull Warriors were cut down by a trio of shock troopers entering the room. The Demon that had accosted Apophis leaned down to face him, and Apophis saw his fear-etched features reflected back at him by the beasts giant golden eye.

And then it spoke.

"Objective secured," it said loudly, then in a quieter voice reserved only for Apophis, it said, "You are no god. Soon, the whole galaxy will know it."

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"Our shields are down, we're venting atmosphere from decks three, seven, eight, nine, thirteen, nineteen and twenty!," Ensign Callahan at the DEFCOM terminal called out, and Admiral Porcini grit his teeth as the _Relentless _shuddered violently. "Our sub-light drives are down!"

"That's it then. Swing us around to face the enemy, all remaining batteries fire-for-effect on enemy battleship T-19. Have our remaining fighters proceed with the rest of the fleet, they're going to need everything they can muster to make it to the RV point alive," Porcini ordered, shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly in defeat.

The bridge crew went about their business with silent professionalism, many of them trying not to think of their loved ones back home, trying not to think of those that would be left behind and trying not to dwell on the fact that they were about to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Porcini himself, standing calmly like an island in a storm, was thinking about his sons, remembering the day his eldest, Jason, had graduated from Officer school, how proud he had been then. Anthony would be graduating in a month, and Porcini was saddened to think that he could not be there for his son on that day. He was thinking about his own graduation, back in the height of the Alkaid War, how he had been the tactical officer aboard the heavy cruiser _Calibre_.

He remembered the day that ship was destroyed fighting an Alkaid battlesphere. He remembered his first command, a battle cruiser called the _Artemis_. He had thought it a good omen at the time, and the _Artemis_ had been his until its decommissioning over a decade ago.

The _Relentless_ trembled, and all sound seemed to disappear as Porcini recalled the day he had been promoted to Rear-Admiral, just last year. And a Vice-Admiral already, it was a rarity to be promoted so quickly.

He turned his gaze to the view port, watching as the designated enemy battleships shields collapsed and explosions dotted its hull as rail gun rounds and plasma bolts ate away at it. The barrage lasted an eternity and a moment all at once, then the mighty enemy ship tore apart, detonating spectacularly against the star field. Enemy cruisers rushed the dreadnought, and PAC beams raced out to meet them, cutting through shields and hull material alike, and more explosions lit the space around the wounded beast that was the _Relentless_.

"Sir!," a voice called to him, sounding like it was a million miles away. "Sir! We're being hailed! It's Rear-Admiral Vladislov, sir!"

"Vladislov?," Porcini whispered. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"We're being reinforced, there are over forty battleships out there, sir! The enemy ships are switching focus, they are concentrating on Admiral Vladislov's fleet," said the voice again, and Porcini realised that it was disembodied for a reason: it was Catalina, and the holo-emitters on the bridge were offline as power was diverted from nom-essential systems to shield regeneration.

Porcini nodded to himself, gazing at the tactical display. It was true, forty-two battleships and thirty-seven battle cruisers had appeared seemingly from nowhere. Most of them, he noted, were fourth and fifth generation ships, but they were still more than a match for the standard enemy ships.

"Get me a direct line to Vladislov's flagship," he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

"Artemis, congratulations on your promotion," Vladislov's thickly accented voice erupted over the speakers, and his smiling, scarred face appeared on the screen directly above the tactical display. "Looks like you could use a hand, though."

"Alek, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. Help yourself, there are plenty of these bastards to go around," Porcini answered, smiling a little in relief as Vladislov's fleet lit up in the distance, massed volleys of firepower obliterating a score of enemy ships before they could even get in range. "Be careful though, the enemy is fielding a new class of warship. Very formidable, sending you the specs now."

"Understood. We've got carriers coming in soon, we're going to need a lot of bombers from the look of things. Take care, Vice-Admiral. Vladislov, out," and just like that, the transmission was over. Porcini stood ramrod straight, his full awareness returning to him.

"Catalina, status," he ordered.

"Our shields are back up and charging at 0.3 percent per second, damage control teams are seeing to our hull breaches and our sub-light drives are back online, however I would recommend against pushing them beyond thirteen percent until we have some time in dry-dock," the AI reported. "Assuming of course, you don't intend for us all to attempt to martyr ourselves again."

Porcini sighed. "Bring us about, prepare to re-engage the enemy. Order the remainder of the fleet to do the same, form up into Defensive Formation Bravo. Let's retake that planet, people."

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Rear-Admiral Aleksandir Vladislov grinned maliciously as the repaired and refitted _Endeavour _tore apart a pair of enemy cruisers with a broadside, then actually went so far as to chuckle as an enemy battleship lost its shields and was immediately swarmed by dozens of bombers. That ship was consumed in dozens of single megaton explosions as the bombers released their deadly payloads, but a single ion cannon managed to fire one last time, the hyper-accelerating stream of particles punching a gaping hole in the side of a Tau battle cruiser.

The enemy fleet was in disarray, attacking on their own, in pairs, or in small groups, and as such were paying a steep price. The human and Tau fleets fought as single, cohesive units, each ship benefiting from the protection and fire power of each other, where as the Goa'uld attacked like a swarm of insects, splitting up and attacking only where each individual ship commander saw fit.

Had they been capable of using even half the tactics of a Tau or human commander, this battle would have been over long ago. There was something to be said for numbers, though, as even as Vladislov watched his tactical display intently, a battleship and a battle cruiser disappeared almost simultaneously.

"Sir, our carriers are jumping in," Akira, the Endeavour's AI reported calmly, even as he controlled the defensive batteries that were busily wiping out any enemy fighter or gunboat that got through their fighter cover.

"Excellent, make sure there are plenty of bombers available for shipping strikes, and bring our fighters in close to cover the carriers," Vladislov said, his gaze not wavering from the tactical display.

Behind the main battleline, protected by the guns of the fleet, dozens of escort carriers and fleet carriers jumped in-system, disgorging their payloads of fighters and bombers immediately. The battleline's own defensive squadrons swarmed back to the fleet for rearmament and to aid in the covering efforts of the defence batteries of the fleet.

A pair of Goa'uld cruisers, of the outdated variety, got lucky and made it through the pandemonium of the fleets guns, making for the carriers. The carriers, vulnerable to attack at close range, fired weak volleys from their few heavy guns, doing no appreciable damage to the two ships, and plasma bolts spewed forth from the staff cannons on the two Ha'taks, hammering down the shields of an escort carrier quickly and tearing the defenceless ship in half.

One of the larger fleet carriers jockeyed into position, its greater bulk saving another escort carrier from destruction even as its own shields were battered relentlessly. The lightly armed ship fired its handful of laser cannons to no effect even as other carriers moved into add their own firepower, the ships' various commanders knowing they couldn't outrun the two cruisers.

Vladislov watched all this happen, frustrated that none of his ships were small enough for a rapid response. "We'll have to accelerate phase three, Akira. Send the order."

"Yes sir," the AI replied, then sent the pre-prepared message through subspace.

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'Phase three' was waiting just beyond the system's edge. It was a rapid response fleet, made up mostly of cruisers, with a handful of battle cruisers and a single battleship making up the core of the fleet.

"Elder," said a youngling aboard the Tau _Void Fairer_-class battleship _Pious Inquisitor_. "We are receiving the message from the human admiral. We are to accelerate our penetration into the system."

"Understood, J'Intar," Elder K'Hahn, fresh from the medical facilities orbiting Tia'n, home world of the Tau race and known to the humans as Tau Ceti Alpha, said as he gently stretched his neck. Although cleared to return to his duties, the Elders' wounds had been grievous and he still experienced pains every now and again.

"Order all ships to warm up their hyper drives and prepare for imminent hostile contact," K'Hahn said, and found himself curiously eager for the coming battle. A measure of vengeance, perhaps. He rolled his shoulders and drew in a deep breath as the swirling vortex to hyperspace erupted into being before his command ship.

The ship jolted violently as it entered and then exited hyperspace within just a few moments, and in the three seconds it took for the shields to come online after the jump, five golden plasma bolts impacted along the length of the battleship as an enemy cruiser narrowly averted impacting against the side of the much larger Tau vessel.

Instantly, the _Inquisitor_'s serried guns spoke, laser pulses, plasma bolts and rail spikes hammering the smaller cruiser as it attempted to escape, battering down the shields and obliterating the hull in moments.

"All cruisers, break from the main formation and hunt the enemy ships amongst us," K'Hahn ordered as the _Inquisitor_'s shields sprang to life in time to intercept a small flurry of plasma bolts. The barrier ripple violently as it fought of the superheated energy projectiles, and then the battleships guns spoke again, firing in ordered volleys that quickly wore down another enemy cruiser.

K'Hahn's large eyes widened further as the Pious Inquisitor was brought around to face Admiral Vladislov's fleet. The fleet was perhaps eight thousand kilometres distant, and it was impossible to pick out any details, but the distant explosions and shield flares told the Elder that his esteemed colleague was in the thick of it.

Another hundred or so thousand kilometres beyond, he could make out tiny flares of light that indicated Admiral Porcini's fleet was also heavily engaged.

"Launch defence squadrons and get us into the thick of it quickly," K'Hahn ordered, and the _Inquisitor_ trembled as her great engines were fed and she hurtled through space, gaining speed surprisingly quickly for such a large vessel.

Darting from the dual fighter bays, twenty-four _Sabre _Space Superiority Fighters took up defensive formations around their mother ship, and the process was repeated many times over as the entire fleet launched their own defence fighters.

Flight Leader P'Tar exhaled sharply as the engaging fleets in the distance rapidly grew in size, and before he knew it, he and the rest of the Stone Cutters were in the thick of it. P'Tar wrenched his craft around sharply as a pair of Death Gliders decided he was a likely target, and he quickly sent a missile into the cock pit of one and clipped the other with a hail of plasma bolts.

The little ship spun again as warning lights flared, and he brought it under control in time to dive under a battle cruiser as its gun batteries fired a volley. The cockpit of the fighter polarised instantly, but P'Tar still had to cover his eyes as plasma bolts larger than the plane he flew shot past him, and the temperature rose considerably.

P'Tar gasped out a curse as he emerged from under the battle cruiser straight into a close quarters dog fight between a dozen interceptors and twice that number in gliders.

"Great Elder, guide me," he murmured as golden plasma streaked past him, and pulled back on the control yoke, leading another glider up behind him. Plasma shuddered against his rear shields, and the fighter wobbled under the impacts. P'Tar jammed the yoke forward, clenching the firing studs as the fighter went almost instantaneously from a climb to a dive, and plasma bolts stitch across the stars before tearing into the glider and destroying it in a brief explosion of gasses and metals.

He sought a new target quickly, and sent a missile up its tail pipe as it hunted an interceptor, then whirled the _Sabre_ around and pumped plasma into the hindquarters of a gunboat that was making a run at a nearby cruiser. Despite the inertial dampeners, the gee forces were starting to get to him, and he pressed a small button on his console that dispensed a tiny dose of stimulants, just enough to make sure he wouldn't pass out.

New targets pooped up on his scanner, and he pulled around in a relatively wide arc to bring them into line with his guns. There were four of them, and the looked at first like Death Gliders, but the wings were swept further down, the guns were more prominent and the cockpit was smaller, clearly design for just one occupant.

As he watched, one of them broke of to engage a _Scorpion_ Interceptor that wandered too close. The interceptor, out of missiles, fired a small series of laser bursts into the glider, thinking it enough to destroy the craft. P'Tar watched in amazement as a golden band of energy sprang to life around the glider, fending off the laser bursts, and then the glider returned fire.

The bolts were the same colour as those the normal gliders fired, but were smaller and fired much more quickly, and the interceptor was torn to pieces in a second.

P'Tar switched from squadron frequency to fleet-wide. "All units, be aware. I've spotted four bogies of a new design, they have shields. Repeat, new bogies have shields!"

And then he was amongst them, his quad plasma cannons pulsing silently, and the ship that destroyed the interceptor was hammered brutally with a three second burst that wore down its shields and clipped the engine. That craft spiralled out of control for several kilometres, before crashing into the side of a battleship.

Small plasma bolts spat back at him in return from two of the other gliders, and P'Tar cursed and whipped the control yoke around violently as they streaked past, several of them catching his shields. He corkscrewed his craft, turning around the side of a crippled battle cruiser, the two gliders hot on his tail.

_Better manoeuvring, too, damn it_, he cursed in his head as plasma splashed against the ruined armour of the hulk all around him. Dodging around a mangled rail gun turret, he brought his ship around in a one-eighty and immediately blind fired a missile. The streaking warhead missed the two gliders, but detonated against the hull of the battle cruiser and sent chunks of shrapnel flying in all direction. The second glider, closer to the blast than the first, careened violently away from the explosion, its pilot panicking, and rammed at speed into large piece of armour that had peeled back from the rest of the ship.

The other glider spun around in a tight circle, spraying plasma at P'Tar's craft, and P'Tar goosed the throttle as several bolts splashed against his shields. A soft but persistent ringing told him that his shields were close to failing. P'Tar flew desperately, randomly manoeuvring his craft as plasma continued to chase him around the wreck of the battle cruiser.

He pulled up over the top of the ship, caught a glimpse of a pair of interceptors chasing an enemy gunboat, then went vertical, the glider sticking to him like glue_. _The fighter shuddered as several more plasma bolts splashed against his rear shields, then the alarm took on a shrill tone, telling him his shields were now offline.

Another plasma bolt struck the stubby wing to his left, and a brief fire erupted then suffocated in the vacuum as P'Tar momentarily lost control, the Sabre spinning madly and narrowly avoiding another volley of plasma. He spied the _Endeavour_ ahead, opened the throttle as far as it would go, and rocketed toward the human battleship, his shadow still with him.

He had never flown so desperately in his life, and was sweating heavily as another plasma bolt struck the armoured section above his engines, and then he was inside the _Endeavour_'s Laser Net engagement envelope, and thin streaks of light flashed out from the battleship, burning past P'Tar's besieged craft and eliminating the glider behind him.

P'Tar, glad to be alive, flew past the bridge of the ship slowly and waggled his wings in thanks, then radioed the _Inquisitor_ and requested emergency repairs before speeding off toward his mother ship, and momentary safety.

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Admiral Porcini gripped his armrests tightly and watched his tactical display with concern. Despite the reinforcements and the impressive kill ratio of the ordered and disciplined Allied fleets against the erratic enemy ships, it wasn't enough.

"Catalina, best assessment on the outcome of this battle," he ordered quietly.

"Best assessment," she said. "Not good. The enemy still outnumbers us three-to-one, and incoming reports from the fighter squadrons indicate the enemy is fielding a new fighter craft, much more effective than their standard ships. I'd recommend a tactical retreat, but since I already know you won't go for that, out best bet is to link up with the other Allied fleets in-system and give each other mutual protection."

Porcini sighed. This was not how he imagined the liberation of Eden Prime would go. But then, he reminded himself ruefully, since when does everything go according to plan.

"Send the orders," he said, then slumped dejectedly into his command chair.

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Lance Corporal Benjamin Ellis grit his teeth as a plasma bolt splashed against the Instacrete beside his head, raised his rifle and sent a flurry of rail spikes in the direction the shot had come from.

He was taking cover behind a pillar in the lobby of an office building across the street form the Our Lady Of Hope General Hospital, where a large force Jaffa were bunkered down and giving the Marines hell. They had linked up with local Army forces less than a kilometre from the hospital, twenty men who had held back an enemy advance for more than a day. For such a densely populated, albeit relatively 'new' colony, Eden Primes Army was vary small, and several of their bases had been obliterated from orbit, leaving only a small garrison to defend the city with the Marines.

The Army troopers weren't equipped with power armour, but had trauma plates and Seeker glasses, and were standard-issued with laser rifles. One such trooper cried out as his left arm was separated at the elbow from a lucky strike from a staff weapon, and Ellis shouted in anger and fired another burst through a second storey window in the hospital.

He nodded in satisfaction as a Jaffa warrior tumbled out of the window and hit the street below, then duck back behind the pillar as more staff fire swept down at him.

"We can't hold this position forever!," an Army trooper yelled to no-one in particular, and a staff cannon blast sent chunks of Instacrete flying as if to prove the point. Ellis agreed with the man whole-heartedly, but they couldn't retreat and they couldn't demolish the building with artillery, as it was going to be needed after the invaders were kicked out.

Which meant they would eventually have to advance. And Ellis was not looking forward to that; the enemy was well dug in and had the advantage this time. As he pondered their options, a _Razorback _IFV careened through the street, the light machine gun chattering away at the hospital's second floor, and forcing a number of Jaffa into cover.

A staff cannon blast slammed into the side of the light armoured vehicle, burning a hole in the armour and flipping it on its side. _Razorback_s were outdated, having been the primary armoured vehicle during the Alkaid War, and the Army and the Marine Corps had a surplus of the vehicles even now. Being so old, they didn't have shield generators or energy weapons, and the armour was constructed of an outdated alloy not designed to withstand the heat discharge of plasma weapons.

Thus, the impact was catastrophic to the driver and two gunners inside the vehicle, killing the rail gunner instantly, flash frying the machine gunner and horribly scalding the flesh of the driver. The mans screams echoed above the sound of battle for a long time before finally dying out with a gurgle.

Ellis shivered inside his armour, and fired a stream of rail rounds up at the cannon emplacement in rage, missing the operator but damaging the weapon so that it was rendered useless.

"Corporal Ellis," a tinny voice chirped in his ear. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Engstrom, Colonel Burnside is unavailable."

"Yes sir," Ellis said, his voice sounding strange to his ears, as though he were hearing it for the first time. It took him a moment to realise that his ears were ringing from the constant sounds of fighting, despite the audio dampers in his helmet.

"Corporal, I hate to do this to you and your men, but we need that hospital," Engstrom's voice sounded again. "You are to advance on the hospital and sweep and clear, floor by floor, by any and all means necessary. You will have reinforcements arriving sometime in the next half-hour. Do you understand?"

Ellis poked his head round the pillar, eyeing the hospital warily. Advancing would be costly, and, looking back at the men huddled in the building with him, he knew that many of them wouldn't live to talk about it, maybe not even himself.

"Corporal?," Engstrom queried. "Corporal Ellis, do you hear me, son?"

"Yes sir, I understand," Ellis finally replied.

_Rear Echelon Mother Fucker!_ Ellis screamed inside his head. _Burnside would never order us to advance without support._

"Okay, guys," Ellis said aloud to the men with him. "I've had the word from up on high. We're advancing momentarily."

"Bullshit!," someone yelled, and the others started cursing and rebelling against the idea.

"We'll be cut to pieces before we make ten paces," another man said, closer this time.

"Look, guys, it's not like we have a choice, so quit busting my balls and prepare to move out," Ellis ground out, immediately regretting. Truth was, he shared all the doubts his men did.

They were still grumbling, but they were taking in mouthfuls of water, checking their armour and ammo all the same. Ellis sucked in a deep breath, waited a heart beat, then yelled, "Now!" And leapt around his pillar and took of at speed across the street.

Plasma bolts immediately rained down to meet him, splashing into the ground all around, sending molten geysers of dirt and rock flying into the air. Time seemed to slow down, his rifle spat titanium slivers at the hospital, barely aimed but still succeeding in knocking down a Jaffa.

The man beside Ellis, an Army trooper, fell to the ground, a smouldering hole in his chest, and Ellis pressed forward even as a plasma bolt grazed past his left shoulder, setting the armoured pauldron aglow with residual heat. He fired another long burst, sending half a dozen Jaffa into cover, and was hit in the left leg for his troubles.

Ellis dropped like a stone, unharmed thanks to the power armour, and his rifle skittered away from him across the hard surface of the road. He was less than twenty metres away from the hospital lobby, and several men ran past him, two of them being cut down before making it to the comparative safety of the outer lobby and engaging the small group of Jaffa defending it.

A strong hand grabbed Ellis by the arm as he tried to stand, a little dazed from his fall, and lifted him to his feet. Someone shouted something right beside his head, then he was shoved forward, stumbling before breaking into a run.

As he reached cover beside a pair of Tau Marines and a small group of Army troopers, three _Rover_ gun drones sped around the corner on their tracks, moving at their top speed of 45 kilometres per hour. The drones were one-point-four metres long, half a metre wide and equipped with a single anti-personnel laser cannon, and their tracks chewed up the small garden in the nature strip outside the ambulance bay of the hospital as they opened up, spraying the second floor with laser pulses as they moved, before disappearing from sight round the side of the building.

Ellis drew his sidearm, a plasma pistol, and armed it before peeking over the collapsed slab of Instacrete he hid behind. Golden energy raked the slab immediately, and Ellis ducked and cursed. Nearer to the entrance, two Army troopers ducked from cover to toss grenades, one of them losing his head to a plasma bolt before he could get back into cover.

Inside, a bright flash and a loud shrieking indicated one of the grenades had been a flash-bang stun grenade, and a second later a much deeper boom sounded out and pieces of masonry were shattered and flung all around as lethal projectiles as the high explosive grenade detonated.

The effect was immediate; the volume of fire coming from the lobby interior slackened considerably, and as one, the thirty or so Marines and troopers charged in in a dervish of criss-crossing lines of fire that obliterated any remaining Jaffa resistance. After a brief moment, the lobby was declared secure, and the group of humans and Tau moved on, leaving a four-man fire team to hold the lobby.

"Colonel Engstrom, we've secured the lobby and are moving on to secure the rest of the floor," Ellis reported in breathlessly. "We suffered moderate casualties, maybe a dozen men total. Those reinforcements you promised would sure come in handy right now, sir."

"Excellent work," Engstrom's crackled over the link. "ETA on those reinforcements is momentary, they should be with you in less than sixty seconds."

"Understood, sir, thank you," Ellis said. There was no reply this time, and he shrugged it off as he made his way over to one of the fallen troopers. "Sorry, man, but I need this more than you right now," he murmured as he picked up the man's laser rifle and six reloads from his body. It was surprisingly quiet for the time being, and somewhere above the city Ellis heard what sounded like a sonic boom.

He shrugged his shoulders, the armoured pauldrons adhering to his movements, then stepped away from the body and started towards a set of doors that led deeper into the hospital, his men falling in behind him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Stealth Cruiser _Duntroon _was alone in the rings of Saldiris, except for the three enemy cruisers hunting the ship. With the ACSIS offline due to damage, she was easily enough tracked by the advanced warships of the Goa'uld.

Commander Collison was less than pleased with her predicament. The rocks within the Saldiris rings were battering the cruisers' shields despite the efforts of the gun batteries to ward them off. Most of the rocks were small, doing little damage when they made it past the Laser Net system, but every now and then a much larger rock or chunk of spatial debris would make it past the fire of the rail guns to hammer the shields.

That coupled with sporadic fire from the _Duntroon_'s pursuers was slowly wearing down the Stealth Cruisers' shields, and because she was outgunned by just one of those ships, let alone three, there was nothing Collison could really do to ward them off. Somewhere amongst the rings, probably a million miles away, there were three other Stealth Cruisers, all of them doing their best to avoid being destroyed by their own pursuers.

"Bring us out of the rings," Collison ordered. "There's nothing we can do about those ships for now, but we can at least avoid being hammered to a paste by asteroids."

He orders were carried out silently by her bridge crew, and in moments the _Duntroon_ was free from the rings and accelerating away from the planets gravity well. Less than a thousand kilometres from the rings, the cruiser shuddered and Collison jolted forward in her command chair.

"We are receiving fire to our flanks from two enemy gunboats, ma'am," Lieutenant Jung at the Sensors console reported a moment later, and the ship shuddered again as the shields flared visibly just beyond the bridge view port and two gunboats flashed by, firing their cannons continuously into the shields and occasionally releasing one of their energy charges, essentially an anti-ship bomb.

As she watched, the Laser Net guns dotted around the ship opened up at the gunboats, criss-crossing streams of laser pulses stitching their way through space and intersecting as several of them met one of the gunboats. The gunboat's own shields flared brilliantly for a few moments, then gave out and the ship was torn apart by the lasers.

The other gunboat moved away at speed, making it just beyond the Laser Net systems effective range before turning back and preparing to return to the three cruisers which were rapidly gaining on the _Duntroon_. It didn't make it far, however, before five anti-fighter missiles launched from one of the _Duntroon_'s batteries caught up with it and destroyed it.

Commander Collison watched the approach of the three enemy ships on her tactical display and considered her options. She could order the ship to retreat to hyperspace, but until specifically ordered to do so, it might be considered an act of desertion by HICOMM, and such things were frowned upon, to say the least.

There was no way her ship could outrun the Goa'uld for long, that was evidenced by the fact that the _Duntroon_'s sub-light drives were operating at the maximum safe levels and yet the three ships were still gaining on them. Nothing short of a battle cruiser could hope to take on three advanced cruisers and expect any kind of success.

She was at a loss for what to do, something which had never happened to her before. Collison shook her head, and came to her decision, just as the three ships entered their maximum engagement range and golden plasma bolts began racing through the dark void. Most of them missed, but enough of them hit that it had a noticeable drain on the _Duntroon_'s shields.

"Helm, bring us about to a lateral course with the enemy ships," she ordered. "WEPSCOM, prepare our port batteries for a broadside followed by time-on-target volleys, have them concentrate their fire on the Number Two enemy ship."

As she said it, she indicated the ship on her tac-display, and her orders were carried out with a quiet intensity. As the _Duntroon _swung about, her portside gun batteries opened up all at once with a lethal mix of laser pulses, rail spikes and plasma bursts at the targeted ship, followed a split second later by a pair of nukes.

The distant Goa'uld cruiser became a miasma of light as explosions of energy erupted all over its shield, and then disappeared completely behind twin nuclear detonations that watered the eye of the beholder. The crew watched with baited breath to see if they had managed to get lucky and destroy the enemy ship, but it didn't take long before it emerged from the fading light of the explosions unharmed, its shield still faintly aglow.

Immediately, the gunnery crew fired again, this time firing the plasma cannons first, then the rail-guns and finally the laser cannons, all the shots carefully timed so that by the time the plasma had reached the target, the rail spikes and laser pulses will have caught up, ensuring maximum damage at once.

Again the distant ship lit up, its shield valiantly resisting the heavy fire coming its way, and again the shield held strong and the ship continued on unharmed, finally coming into range of the _Duntroon_'s ace in the hole. Even as the _Duntroon_ shuddered more and more violently with each consecutive hit from the enemies guns, the Ion Cannon acquired its target and fired, lancing into the ship as though it were some giant boil on the face of the universe.

Finally, the shield collapsed under the strain, and the remaining energy from the ion shot destroyed one of the points on the ships outer hull. Rail-gun spikes and laser pulses raked across the ship as plasma simply boiled through whatever it came into contact with, chewing away at the ships armoured hull before finaly hitting something vital and sending the ship critical, detonating in a spectacular display.

The _Duntroon_'s victory was short-lived, however, as the two remaining ships intensified their fire and the cruisers shield flared more and more brightly as it tried to fight off the overwhelming energies arrayed against it.

"Shield failure imminent," someone called out, and Collison braced herself for when the shields collapsed. The _Duntroon_ was no battleline ship, her armour wasn't thick enough to withstand more than a handful of hits from those plasma cannons. It was over, and Collison knew it. There wasn't even time to evacuate the ship, and even if there had been, she was sure the Goa'uld would destroy any lifeboats that were launched.

"Hyperspace window on our portside!," Jung cried out. "Practically on top of us!"

"Now what," Collison said quietly to herself watching the newly formed tear in sub-space intently. What happened next, she certainly didn't expect.

A ship of completely unknown design leapt from the hyperspace window. She couldn't make out any details, but the ship was about the size of a battle cruiser and looked almost like a hammer that had had it's handle squashed flat, and at the rear of the vessel near the end of the 'wing' stretched what looked like four skyscrapers, two reaching up from the dorsal side, two hanging from the ventral side.

The two attacking cruisers immediately changed targets and hit the newcomer with everything they had. A brilliant blue shield flared around the points of contact, shrugging off the plasma blasts with apparent ease, and then the hammer-ship returned fire.

Three blue bolts of energy erupted from the bow of the ship, hitting their target with enough power to force the Goa'uld cruiser shield to flare up entirely as it tried to disperse the energy over the entire surface of the shield. Three more identical to the first salvo were fired from turret mounts locate near the rear of the ship, just on front of the two towers on the starboard, followed shortly after by another three from the portside as the vessel brought itself around to face the two enemy ships directly.

The Goa'uld ships shield resisted four more such bolts before the shield collapsed and the remaining two bolts destroyed the ship outright. The other cruiser started to accelerate away from the newcomer, and was chased down by a massed salvo of energy bolts that tore it apart before it made it more than a few hundred kilometres.

The entire bridge crew was gaping out the view ports up at the ship that had saved them, and when Collison finally tore her eyes away from the view to look at her tactical display, she saw that two more such ships had jumped in nearby. Zooming out for a full in-system view, thanks to long-range sub-space networking between all allied ships, she saw that more than three dozen more identical ships had jumped into the system at various points, and where they had engaged the enemy, the Goa'uld had run away, many of them even retreating into hyperspace.

In a number of cases, Allied ships had rallied around the hammer-ships and were driving back the Goa'uld. She couldn't believe it; they had gone from tactical retreat to routing the enemy in moments, all thanks to their unknown friends.

The _Duntroon_'s communications suite activated, indicating an incoming message, and without being told to do so, someone punched it up on the main screen. Collison blinked rapidly in amazement as she looked into the face of an alien. It looked like a Grey, a common conception of the appearance of extra-terrestrial visitors in the 20th and 21st centuries.

"Greetings, Humans of Earth and esteemed Tau. I am Supreme Commander Thor of the Asgard," the being said in a voice that was almost musical. "Our allies of the Tok'ra indicated that you may be in need of assistance."

Complete silence reigned on the bridge of the _Duntroon_, and on the bridge of every other ship in the fleet, for this communiqué was being transmitted to every Allied ship in-system. Collison, mouth agape, swallowed slightly, and somewhere in the rear of the bridge somebody coughed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A/N: Apologies for the long wait, but RL tends to get in the way of my hobbies, and work has been a real bitch of late (so has my now-ex-girlfriend, but that's another story). Anyway, know that I can make no promises as to when the update will be as I don't know if I'll be getting any time off work anytime soon. I'd say expect the next chapter shortly before Christmas at best. Unless I get weekends to myself again before then, in which case, I honestly don't know. BUT, also know that this story will NEVER be abandoned, I fully intend to finish.

Also, please try to be understanding of the unfortunate fact that I do have more important things to do than work on this story (I wish it wasn't so, but then if wishes were horses…)


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